


Perfect Little Freaks: Act 5.2

by AOrange



Series: Perfect Little Freaks [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pesterlog, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4556979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AOrange/pseuds/AOrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave's slowly adjusting to college life, Rose is a mess, Dirk's happier than ever, and Roxy's back to climbing the corporate ladder. </p><p>Things are rapidly changing for everyone and in true Strider-Lalonde fashion, no one remembered to strap themselves in for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [A5.2A1]: please just get on the fucking plane

**December, 2014 ******

**** \-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 02:56 -- ** **

****TG: hey  
TG: you still up  
CG: YEAH. IS SOMETHING WRONG?  
TG: nah  
TG: unless you count john being shitty because im still sleeping with my feet in his face  
CG: BECAUSE NOTHING SAYS THIRD GRADE BIRTHDAY PARTY LIKE SLEEPING HEAD TO TOE.  
TG: he drooled on my pillow  
TG: i told him if i find drool on my pillow im flipping upside down  
TG: guess what  
TG: he still drooled  
CG: YOU KNOW THAT YOU MUMBLE IN YOUR SLEEP, RIGHT?   
TG: i mumble when im awake  
TG: john doesnt drool when hes awake  
TG: therefore your argument doesnt hold up  
CG: TOUCHE. WHAT'S WRONG?  
TG: nothing  
TG: dude youd know if something was wrong over here  
TG: unless  
TG: youre asking me so ill ask you in return  
TG: and then you can tell me that you finally snapped and shanked kankri  
CG: NOT YET. I'VE COME CLOSE, DON'T GET ME WRONG.  
TG: but youve at least hit him right  
CG: WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS, AMATEUR HOUR?  
TG: i forgot  
TG: a slap in the face is the vantas version of a cat to the chest  
CG: PRETTY MUCH? HOW'S WASHINGTON?  
TG: like home but with more department stores and less snow  
TG: you have no idea how well ive been sleeping out here  
TG: its like some fucking miracle after the city  
TG: quiet  
TG: as  
TG: fuck  
CG: SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE QUIET?  
TG: not exactly that quiet  
TG: and the closest body of water is a lake and not running at all  
TG: but it beats the shit out of subway rattles and drunks yelling and fucking teenagers screaming down halls at three in the morning  
CG: WOW, LAME.  
TG: im trying to get in all my decent sleep for the next six months  
CG: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS.  
TG: its worth a shot  
TG: ive been here four days and havent had a headache higher than a three on the trusty scale of one to ten  
TG: thats almost a miracle in and of itself  
CG: YEAH, THAT'S ACTUALLY A PRETTY GOOD RUN.   
TG: ikr  
CG: WHAT'S WRONG?  
TG: dude  
TG: im actually not in any kind of crisis over here  
TG: take a day off  
TG: worry about something else for the next week  
CG: IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING HERE. NOTHING GOOD EVER COMES OUT OF A CONVERSATION STARTING AT THREE A.M.  
TG: well its only midnight here so you officially get to chill  
TG: whats been happening  
CG: FOR THE MOST PART IT'S JUST BEEN A LOT OF BULLSHIT. KANKRI'S A SEMESTER AWAY FROM GRADUATING SO HE THINKS HE KNOWS EVERYTHING, BUT ONE OF THE THINGS HE KNOWS IS THAT NEW YORK CITY ISN'T THE PLACE FOR HIM SO I'M NOT ACTIVELY DISCOURAGING THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT.  
TG: too liberal  
CG: YEAH. SO HE'LL PERMANENTLY BE SOMEWHERE ELSE BY JULY, THANK FUCK FOR THAT. MOM PULLED A THIRTY TWO HOUR SHIFT AND SPENT ALL DAY SLEEPING THAT OFF. DAD'S BEEN CALLED IN FOR SOME EMERGENCY OR ANOTHER AND WHO KNOWS WHEN HE'LL BE BACK, SO IT'S PRETTY MUCH CHRISTMAS AS USUAL.  
TG: nice  
TG: shit is really weird here  
TG: not bad  
TG: just holy shit is this over the top or is this what normal people do  
TG: johns dad made gingerbread today  
TG: and dont get me wrong here  
TG: its literally the greatest thing i have ever put in my mouth  
TG: but he made enough to replace an entire platoon with gingerbread men  
TG: is that excessive  
CG: PROBABLY. DOES IT MATTER?  
TG: it really doesnt  
TG: im never eating anything else again  
CG: THAT'S NOT A THING THAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.  
TG: whatever  
TG: but its like  
TG: this is kind of a nice thing  
TG: and i probably wouldnt mind that much if i had to do it again next year  
TG: its so fucking cool to actually be in the same room as john for once  
TG: moms so happy shes practically bouncing off the walls at all times of the day  
TG: i think rose even smiled at dinner tonight  
CG: HOLY SHIT.   
TG: i know  
TG: like it blows so hard bros not here  
TG: but man i can only see that being awkward as fuck  
CG: YEAH. YOU WOULDN'T WANT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ALL THREE OF YOUR DADS ARE IN THE SAME CITY.  
TG: jfc dont remind me  
TG: its too dumb for words that thats a thing thats true  
TG: at least theyre all at different levels on the apathetic parenting scale and i could play them off each other  
CG: YEAH, BECAUSE THAT'S THE FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND.  
TG: why wouldnt it be  
TG: bro dad gives literally no fucks   
TG: jake gives some fucks  
TG: johns dad gives all the fucks  
TG: its an even spread  
CG: IT'S ALMOST LIKE THE THREE OF THEM MAKE ONE DECENT PARENT.  
TG: decent parents are probably overrated  
TG: mom and bro did alright and theyre totally fucked up  
CG: SO ARE YOU.  
TG: exactly  
TG: they couldnt have done a worse job than their parents did  
TG: it evens out  
CG: OH MY GOD. I FIGURED IT OUT.  
TG: what  
CG: YOU'RE MOPING BECAUSE YOU MISS HIM.  
TG: who  
CG: ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO DRAG THIS OUT?  
TG: drag what out  
CG: JUST CALL HIM. IT'S LIKE EIGHT IN THE MORNING OVER THERE RIGHT NOW. CALL HIM, TELL HIM CHRISTMAS BLOWS BECAUSE HE SKIPPED THE COUNTRY, HE'LL LAUGH AT YOU, YOU'LL LAUGH AT YOU, AND A MERRY CHRISTMAS WILL BE HAD BY ALL.  
TG: nope  
CG: DO IT.  
TG: nope  
CG: DAMMIT, DAVE. DON'T MAKE ME PESTER HIM TO CALL YOU.  
TG: fuck you  
CG: HA. HIT A NERVE?  
TG: several  
TG: besides its midnight and johns already asleep and itd be rude as fuck to start a phone conversation right now  
CG: NO HE'S NOT. I WAS TALKING TO HIM LESS THAN FORTY MINUTES AGO AND HE SAID HE WAS GOING TO DO SOME OF HIS REHEARSAL BULLSHIT.  
TG: okay so hes somewhere behind me at his keyboard  
TG: i need to be up early tomorrow  
CG: SANTA ISN'T REAL.  
TG: dad egbert is making pancakes and theyll be on at eight  
CG: SO?  
TG: so i need to get three miles in before that  
CG: ACTUAL EXERCISE ON CHRISTMAS?  
TG: cant take a break or my thighs will suffer  
TG: ill stop looking like hot shit in shorts  
TG: then the people will suffer  
TG: think of the people karkat  
TG: think of all the suffering  
CG: THE ONLY THING SUFFERING WILL BE YOUR EGO.  
TG: cant confirm or deny etc etc  
CG: CONFIRMED.JPG  
TG: whatever  
TG: gonna pack it in for the night  
CG: ALREADY?  
TG: hilarious  
TG: but for real did i wake you up  
CG: NO. CALL HIM.  
TG: in the morning  
TG: cross my heart hope to die  
CG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP OR I'LL STICK THE NEEDLE IN YOUR EYE FOR YOU.  
TG: wow rude  
TG: later** **

**** \-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 03:13 -- ** **

********

+++

When Vriska had announced that she had been accepted into an out-of-state college, her mother had just laughed and offered her a lift to the bank to apply for student loans. 

While Aranea, four years earlier, had been in the same position, her choice to attend school in Florida had been dictated by two main factors - moving just far enough away that she was free of family obligations, but still within driving distance of her girlfriend's chosen community college.

Vriska, in turn, was motivated by Aranea graduating and moving back home, however temporary the arrangement was supposed to be. When faced with the prospect of moving not only to a new city but a new state entirely, she had gravitated towards the place she knew she had a friend. 

John was always nice to her. There was no other way to explain his personality. He was good, and kind, and funny, and there was no doubt that she probably liked him a little too much and let that sway her decision in moving to the absolute opposite corner of the country from her hometown in southern Florida.

It didn't matter. John was just as wonderful in real life as he was online. When he laughed at her, it was because she'd done something to make him laugh. He knew that she had a predisposition for falling into old patterns and making the same mistakes she'd always made, but that only made him call her out when she went too far. She wanted to impress him. He was like every good influence she'd never had and always needed, rolled into one. 

On some level, she knew that he didn't feel the same way about her, but she chalked that up to him never having experienced everything she had. He was an only child, one who was planned and loved and supported in all of his decisions. She knew that her sister had been unplanned, and herself even moreso, because small children got in the way of the illegal career job ladder their mother had been scaling for years. She had known self-preservation, that adults were only ever out for their own interests, and had struggled to get a positive reaction from any of the ones she had known while growing up. 

The only time she was certain of her mother's pride was when her conviction fell through, when the court had been unable to find her solely responsible for the incident that led to the paralysis of a friend. 

When John's step-mother-to-be had sat her down on Christmas Eve to talk, Vriska had done what she did best. She adopted her closed-off persona, the one that oozed self-confidence and featured an award-winning display of blatant bitch face. She sat, slumped in the kitchen chair with her arms folded across her chest and one knee crossed over the other, tapping the toes of her top leg against nothing. 

The conversation was predictable. Roxy went on about how she was a guest, that her snippy attitude was wearing thin, that there was obviously something irritating her. She talked about John, about how not even she knew the whole story but that she knew enough, that John was worried things were moving too quickly but couldn't bring himself to say it. Vriska felt herself relax - only slightly - when Roxy said that John did like her. Her advice was reasonable; slow down, actually listen to him, go for the little things like holding hands instead. 

It was a strange encounter. Vriska had spent the entire conversation wanting it to be over, but when Roxy finally stood up and left her in the kitchen, she almost wanted to call her back to ask for more advice. But she didn't. She couldn't. Instead, she had slipped back into her guise and gone to spend time alone on her inflatable mattress, reading comics from John's stash as if she was daring the world to leave her alone. 

Then, instead of trying to seek out John's attention during a heated game of Risk later than night, she tried something new; she waited. While Dave and Rose made an early alliance that set up the entire game for one of them to win, Vriska played her own strategy that always kept her close to toppling their empire. An hour into the game, when he was out and scrolling through his phone to kill some time, John absentmindedly reached over, linking his pinky with hers. 

He was also the first one to let go, but only because his dad called bedtime. 

When she woke up, it was with an anticipatory pain in the gut. The thought of it being Christmas Day was almost too much, knowing that the events to come were no doubt going to be of the wholesome, All-American variety, with no imported counterfeits in sight. 

As quietly as she could, she rummaged through her bag in search of makeup wipes to clean away the previous days' eyeliner. Using her phone open to Snapchat in place of a mirror, she replaced the blue lines and covered her lashes in a heavy coating of mascara. She slipped her glasses into place and ran her fingers through her hair, then halfway through trying to tie it back she changed her mind. She doused her roots with too much dry shampoo and left it loose, because that seemed easier. 

When she reached for her bag again, to trade the shampoo can for a clean set of clothes, she realised that Rose was lying awake on her own mattress, across the room. 

"What?"

"Nothing. I was simply startled awake is all," Rose said groggily, staring up at the ceiling. "I've become quite accustomed to a certain series of background noises at this time in the morning, and having those interrupted is a bit of a shock to the system."

"Well, _sorry_ ," Vriska snapped, turning towards the wall while she changed. 

"I didn't mean you. Can't you hear the boys upstairs?"

When Vriska stopped to pull her hair out from down the back of her three layers of shirts, she realised that there was some kind of music faintly trickling down through the floor, accompanied by voices that were struggling to keep to a reasonable volume for so early in the day. 

She wouldn't have noticed the noise if Rose hadn't pointed it out. 

"Oh my _God_ , are those idiots awake this early to play fucking _Minecraft_? They're such _losers_!"

"This shouldn't come as a revelation, they've been cultivating that world for about four years. The real question is, have they even been to sleep?"

"Ugh, probably not," Vriska said, rolling her eyes as she pulled on a clean pair of socks. "Fucking nerds." 

"Absolute fucking nerds," Rose agreed, staring at the roof while Vriska changed into her jeans. "I doubt Dave would sacrifice an assured several consecutive hours of sleep these days, however." 

"And John's a moron who can't stay awake past midnight, like, ever." 

"How precious."

"Annoying," Vriska corrected. "I took him to a Halloween party, but _no_ , he bailed early on that, too." 

"If I recall, he did mention something about needing to catch a bus home that night." 

"Did he? I just remember how lame it was. I mean, I had to leave too, there was no point staying on my own."

"How tragic," Rose mused, a coy smile passing before she finally sat up. She checked her phone with a sigh, replied to a message on-screen, then started searching through her own bag for something to wear. 

Vriska made a point of looking away while she changed, examining her own hair for split ends and knots that no amount of conditioner could save. She wanted to question how Rose could look out a window in December, in Washington no less, and decide to wear a short sleeved shirt. It was covered with a cardigan, but Rose immediately pushed the sleeves up to her elbows and left them there. 

"It's fucking snowing, Lalonde," Vriska said, eventually letting her mild curiosity get the better of her. "What's with the getup?"

"Less than forty degrees is about correct for this time of year," Rose said. "Although, there seems to be much less snow on the ground here than there is in upstate New York."

"It's probably at least seventy five back home." 

"With unreasonable levels of humidity to boot, I'm willing to bet."

"All the world's humidity is centralised over Florida. All of it."

"I've only been as far south as Orlando."

"Disney World?"

"The Wizarding World of Harry fucking Potter," Rose said with a smile, standing to zip her skirt up. "It was wonderful, but I highly doubt anyone will ever find me in Florida again while I'm alive."

"It's fucking awful," Vriska said, trying to work the ends of her hair free from a knot that had formed overnight. "Everyone is disgusting all the time, the people are bitter because they're so disgusting, and they're all convinced they're going to get enough money to move up into real Miami someday."

"And no one ever did?"

"Not one fucking person I know."

"If nothing else today will be a delightful education," Rose said. She opened the door, gesturing for her to go on ahead.

Vriska found it hard not to be suspicious of her motives, but she stepped out of the room anyway.

The boys had somehow beaten them to living room. 

"Oh, Dave. Please, I've asked you to send out a warning when you're about to dress like that."

+++

"Look, I can't take everyone's criticisms on board at once or I'd be a walking mess of hot contradictions," Dave said, as he sat down on the arm of the couch to tighten his shoelaces. "And while I'm usually up for that, like, in the sense that it's basically my entire life goal and all, I gotta start taking advice at some point for the benefit of humanity." 

The longer he talked shit, the less opportunity Rose had to interrupt him. 

"I just don't understand why you need the shorts over your pants, or vice versa," Rose pointed out; he was distracted by the lace of his left sneaker.

"Because, my dearest fucking sister, Queen of the nosiest bitch brigade this side of Narnia, apparently my shorts aren't classified as winter safe, and I'm not entirely a fan of just how little these leggings leave to the imagination."

"Yeah, I accidentally saw him before he put the shorts on and man, I'm not gonna be able to sleep for a week, yeesh," John pitched in, complete with a disgusted facial expression. 

"Him I understand," Rose said, shifting her attention. "But you?"

John shrugged. 

"He's not coming," Dave interjected.

"Yeah, I am, dude!"

" _You're_ going for a run?" Vriska asked, struggling to muffle her shriek of laughter. "Since when are you any good at that?"

"Wow, mean," John said. "It'll be fun! Right?"

"I don't fucking know," Dave shrugged. "I do it out of habit."

"And it gives you an excuse to show off your glorious thighs," Rose pitched in.

"That's a fucking given, Rosie. It'd just be cruel to never show them off. The people would complain, same old argument, etcetera, etcetera. Look, we need to go now so I can be back for pancakes. I'll be like half an hour or whatever, John'll be back when he remembers that the only reason I do this shit is because I'm like the fucking Flash."

"You're not that fast, Dave. No one is. That's why the Flash is a superhero," John pointed out. 

"Dude, I went to state. Last chance to back out?"

"No way! Let's go."

"This can only end badly," Rose said. 

Dave flipped her off over his shoulder as he followed John out of the house. He paused when they got to the end of the front path, glancing in both directions in the hopes of seeing more than just rows of houses.

"Which way?"

"I dunno," John said. "Does it matter?"

"Oh my God. Just tell me if we're heading into the ghetto or something," Dave said, taking off to the left.

"Hey, no fair! You didn't say go!" John exclaimed. 

Dave snorted when he heard John fall into step beside him a few seconds later.

"Struggling to keep up yet?"

"It's only been a block!"

"And I'm only jogging," he pointed out.

"Wait, what?"

"You took Gym, right?"

"Yeah, like a year ago!" John exclaimed, speeding up a little so that he didn't fall behind as they rounded the corner. "How much longer?"

"Well we're only like two minutes into this shit," Dave said, checking his watch to make sure he was right. "Like eighteen to go?"

John groaned and pointed left to direct Dave around the next corner. 

In the end, they were a full ten minutes late for breakfast. John had, unsurprisingly, caused them to wait for a set of lights to change three times before they went on, because he needed to stop and complain about how his sneakers were damp, uncomfortable, and itchy. 

They had walked back home from there.

"Morning, baby," Roxy said, forcing Dave to stop before he sat down so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "Nice pants."

"Thanks," he replied. "I don't think the mean streets of suburban Washington are ready to witness these babies in their natural state."

"No one is ever going to be ready for that," she laughed, holding his cheeks in her hands. She pressed another few kisses to his forehead before he managed to break away.

"You're still jealous, aren't you?"

"I don't think I could ever _not_ be jealous of those legs, baby. They're everything I always wanted and more," she said, turning to go and help John's dad with the coffee maker. 

Dave snorted and slipped into the seat opposite John and beside Rose. 

"Pancake me," he said, waving his plate at her; the platter was just out of reach and the option to annoy his sister was there, so there was no obvious point in trying to push himself. "C'mon, Rosie, just like a pancake or six. The faster you do it the faster I stop almost hitting you in the face with the Egbert crockery."

Rose turned to glower at him and started chewing own pancake even more slowly than she had been. 

Across the table, both John and Vriska were watching them intently. 

"Dave," Roxy warned, without even turning around. 

"Mom," he said back, in an equally terse tone of voice. He gave in when he heard her take a step somewhere behind him, dropping his plate back down onto the table and reaching the extra three inches to pick up his own pancakes. 

He cracked a grin when John visibly relaxed across from him. 

"Hey, so you've been coming over here for like a decade, right Mom?"

"Tell me where you're going with this and then maybe I'll answer," Roxy replied. She sat down at the end of the table, between Rose and Vriska. 

Dave nodded a greeting to John's dad when he sat down in the last remaining chair. 

"All I'm saying is that we went years playing this game of Guess The Boyfriend, me, Rosie, and Bro, and we came up with some pretty good shit. Like, there was a whole six months where we thought you'd been married off to a Saudi Prince and you didn't say jack to prove us wrong so we kind of ran with it," Dave said, elbowing Rose until she passed him the syrup. "The astronaut was like some crazy bullshit, but I was like eight and Bro had to explain that you kind of know a bunch of astronauts so it was actually a possible thing. You pulled a Sirius Black out of the bag every year or so because that totally wasn't a joke that never got old or anything. But by some fortuitous twist of fate, which really we all should have seen coming because that's like our crappy family motto, it turns out that the real answer is that you've been doing the same shit Bro's been doing all along, except with the guy who's responsible for the creation of my best, best bro."

"I stopped listening for a while there, baby. What's your point?"

"You can keep him."

"Well, I'm glad you approve," Roxy said, shaking her head as she tried to hide a smile from everyone else. "Eat your breakfast."

Dave ate his breakfast. 

He was debating just how much he wanted to go for a ninth pancake when someone kicked him under the table. His mom was too far away, John's dad was refilling the coffee pot, and Rose knew exactly where to kick if she wanted a reaction. Vriska was idly scrolling through something on her phone.

John glowered at him, pointing to the clock with his fork. 

Dave furrowed his eyebrows in return and shrugged, as if to ask what the gesture was supposed to mean. John just clicked his tongue and pointed to the clock a second time, then nodded towards Dave's phone before finally putting an angry expression on his face. 

It took Dave way too long to realise that he was supposed to be imitating Karkat. 

"Going for a shower," he said quickly, swiping his phone up from the table as he stood. He reached back over to pick up his coffee mug and downed the last few mouthfuls before darting out of the kitchen. 

Once he'd figured out what John was trying to say without actually saying it, he'd realised just how likely it was that Karkat had gone out of his way to Pester John that morning, just to ensure that he eventually got around to making the call he was supposed to make. He fully intended on asking for a copy of that Pesterlog to read at some point in the future, but as he took the stairs two at a time, he was still hesitant about actually dialling Bro's number. 

It took three attempts at opening the phone app and a detour via Twitter before he could convince himself to hit call.

+++

When, mid-way through a second bowl of Christmas pudding, Dirk was offered a cigarette, he hesitated. 

There was no doubt in his mind that for only the third time in his forty-three years, he felt actively flammable. 

He'd helped out where he could in the kitchen that morning, picking up small tasks like stirring or mixing so that everything else could run smoothly. He'd seen the amount of brandy that went into the custard, over the pudding, and then into a glass that had been served along with the dessert; no one had bothered measuring out the alcohol at any point in the process. 

It went without saying that the result was probably the best follow-up to a Christmas lunch he'd ever had. 

He spooned the last of the pudding into his mouth and set his bowl down on the arm of the couch. After a meal that had rivalled even his best attempts at Thanksgiving dinners over the years, he was more than content to sit around in the living room and watch hours of mindless television. Of course, there were certain programs that Jake's parents eventually wanted to watch - tradition, they'd said - but they weren't set to air for a few hours. 

As one show ended and another began, he took up the offer of a cigarette. On one hand, he was fully aware that his poor impulse control over the past few days meant that once he got back home, it was going to be hell trying to drop back down to one a day with his morning coffee. On the other, however, there was something oddly satisfying about taking the time to hand roll each one before he could smoke it. 

From beside him, Jake watched as he did, bemused, but unable to entirely disapprove. 

When his phone started to ring in the other room, Dirk reluctantly, and with great difficulty, peeled himself up from the couch in an attempt to answer it before the caller hung up. 

He only just caught a glimpse of Dave's name flashing across the screen as he swiped to take the call. 

"Merry Christmas, kiddo," he said.

"Hey. So, what's up?" 

"I think, and I could be wrong here, but I think I might be pretty fucking drunk despite the fact it's not even five in the afternoon over here."

Dirk reached over and ashed his cigarette into the sink before starting slowly back towards the lounge.

"Nice. Today, yesterday, or tomorrow?"

"Today, you're only eight hours behind. How're things?" Dirk asked. "Actually, hang on," he added, removing the phone from his ear long enough to make it back to the couch without any distractions. 

While he knew that he could carry on a conversation without slurring his words, he wasn't entirely convinced that he could do that and walk at the same time. He switched the phone to speaker and put it down on Jake's knee while he settled back against the cushions again. 

"Bro? Are you there? Dude, what the shit?"

"Sorry, little man. Couldn't walk and talk without doing one wrong. So, how's the Emerald City working out for you?"

"It's okay. Y'know, the 'burbs are still just a really fucking weird concept to me. Like, most of the time I can pretend they don't really exist as a thing until I spend some time in them and then it's like, god damn, what is this place?"

"You're on speaker, don't say fuck again."

"What? Why am I on speaker? Don't do that. Can I opt out of being on speaker? This was a dumb, shitty idea anyway and I tried to tell him that, but no. Thanks, Karkat, thanks a-fucking-lot. Shit, sorry, I said fuck."

"I know you did, Dave," Dirk said. "And you're on speaker because I need to revise my earlier assessment about being pretty drunk."

"To?"

"GTA death-screen levels of wasted." 

"Damn. Wait, who can hear me?"

"Everyone." 

There was a brief pause in the conversation, during which Dirk was certain he heard Dave kick something.

"Are you alright, mate?" Jake asked, picking the phone up off his leg. "Happy Christmas, by the way. Dave?" 

"Huh? Yeah, I'm great, thanks Pops."

"I don't know if you're being sarcastic about that." 

"Which part?"

"Any of it, really. Now, Mum and Dad can hear you so it's probably a good time to say hello," he explained, holding Dirk's iPhone up closer to his face. 

"What? No, I didn't sign up for that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure they're great but I've never talked to them before, what the hell do I say? Like emails are cool, can't I just email them later? I'm good with that. Then they don't have to know that I'm totally incomprehensible like ninety-nine percent of the time, no one needs to know that. What do I even call them? I can get around that in emails, too. I mean, I have until now. I just start with a 'hey' or whatever and get on with the point. Tell them I'll email them. I'll throw in a link to a dumb Christmas video or something." 

Dirk tried to stifle a snort of laughter but only succeeded in forcing a lungful of smoke out through his nose. 

"Well, unfortunately for you, mate, Mum heard all of that and she's no less keen to talk with you," Jake said. 

As he passed the phone over to his mother, he realised that Dave still ranting on the other end of the call. At least, he was until she started speaking. 

"First of all, young man, at this point, it's probably quite appropriate to use Grandma and Grandpa just like we told you to do a very long time ago," she said. "Now, how are you?"

"Yeah, fine." 

"Fine, what?" 

"Huh?"

"Fine, who?" 

"Uh. Look, please don't make me say it? Like, this is swell, really fuckin' swell, but you've totally blindsided me here and I'm teetering on the edge of the handle and that's not a fun place to be. If Bro's busy or drunk or whatever I'll call him back later," Dave said. 

"How about we all ring you back in a few hours, hmm? Sound fair to you?"

"Yeah, a few hours. I can do that. Sure." 

"Alright, but I'll be expecting a longer conversation out of you, mister," she insisted, reluctantly turning the phone back over to Jake. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Later." 

Jake ended the call and flipped the phone over in his hand. He didn't even bother trying to give it back to Dirk and instead just slid it across the coffee table, safely out of the way for when he put his feet back up.

"Do you want me to remind you to call him later on?" Jake asked. He settled back against Dirk and closed his eyes, tossing his glasses over to join the iPhone on the table. "If I even remember."

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna need that," Dirk replied, lifting his arm until Jake found a comfortable position beside him; he dropped it down over Jake's shoulder once he finally stopped fidgeting. "I ain't rememberin' shit." 

"Who would have thought the great Di-Stri could be brought down by a mere Christmas pudding?"

"And the turkey, the brandy, sprouts, parsnips, brandy, pumpkin, brandy, the list goes on." 

He felt Jake give a quiet snort of laughter against him.

It was raining again. 

His head was clouded but it was a calm, content kind of drunk; he knew there was no point in trying to stay awake for much longer. He drifted off with his fingers tapping against Jake's chest in time with the rain against the lounge room window.

+++

She drew in a shaky breath and exhaled slowly, curling her fingers around the neck of the bottle that was resting up against her thigh. A small sob escaped with every attempt to speak but she kept trying, determined to explain herself eventually. Between each failure, she tried to breathe deeply. 

In. Hold. Out. 

It was hard to find the words she needed to articulate exactly what the problem was. In some ways, she hoped that she would exhaust herself before she was able to put together a cohesive sentence. In others, she just wanted to give an answer to the question. 

Another sob escaped and she tried to muffle the sounds with her free hand. It was late, but not late enough that the entire house would be asleep, and the company of one person was more than enough. 

He tried to take the bottle from her again, while she was distracted, but it only caused her to cry out and shake her head furiously before she curled in on herself. 

She didn't know why he was there but she hadn't questioned it; his timing was nothing short of miraculous, as always. He'd knocked on the door right as she began necking the vodka straight out of the bottle, already in tears, but she had no idea how long had passed since then. He had wordlessly crawled onto the mattress and worked his way into the corner, between her and the wall, and enveloped her in his arms and legs and hadn't once tried to let go. 

He was familiar and comforting and she knew that his day had been just as long as hers. Probably worse, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to be thinking about that. She couldn't even be entirely grateful for his effort. 

After another failed attempt at explaining herself, she shrunk even smaller against him, still trying to give up the bottle trapped in her fist. He didn't even try to take it from her, instead choosing to continue holding her close with one arm around her shoulders and the other drawing shapes halfway down her back. 

But for all of his good intentions, her brother was not Kanaya. 

He said something then. She didn't catch the words as much as she felt them, his chin moving awkwardly against her scalp. In turn, she just shook her head and lifted the bottle up into her lap where he wouldn't be able to reach it. 

He spoke again. 

"Does Mom know?" 

She shook her head furiously and tried to speak, to beg him not to tell their mother. Her words came out as a series of muffled sobs instead, but he seemed to have understood regardless. 

It was a burden that she had no intention of sharing with anyone, her mother least of all.

"One reason, or all?" 

His left hand, the one that had been drawing patterns across her back, was now in front of her face. He repeated the question, wiggling different fingers as he re-listed the two options. When she did nothing, he tried again, this time making the options as clear as he could. 

Slowly, she reached out and linked his index finger with hers. 

One reason.

"Okay, I can work with that," he said. "Piss easy. Same as before, index for yes, middle for no. But I'm telling you now, if you're sitting down here crying because Vriska said something mean and it hurt your feelings, I'm out," he said. "But if she tried to make you look at her gross eye, that's different. I'll totally accept that as a reason for flipping your shit, because holy flying dicks that thing is disgusting in real life."

She managed to choke out a laugh and tap one of the knuckles on his middle finger. 

"Yeah, she needs to stop doing that. Like I get that it's great as some kind of fucked up party trick and all but y'know, family Christmas and shit isn't the place for parading that shit around. So, was it something someone did?"

Middle finger.

"Something someone said?"

Middle again.

"Shitty round of Christmas gifts?"

Middle.

"You want to go home?"

Middle, followed by index. 

"So not home-home, but home?"

She nodded instead of tapping either finger and drew in a long, deep breath, readjusting her grasp on the vodka bottle as she did.

"Man, you miss her that much, huh?"

She nodded again, more vigorously, and finally let go of the bottle so she could slide both of her arms under his to return the hug.

He took the vodka from her lap and tucked it down between the mattress and her bag, out of reach but not entirely out of sight. 

They stayed like that for what she would later realise was an embarrassingly long time. There was something to be said for the comfort brought by family, despite the accompanying sense of shame she felt for needing the comfort in the first place. 

When she let her arms fall back from around his chest, he gave her one final squeeze and sat still while she rearranged herself to sit beside him, huddled under his right arm. 

"That's super gay, you know," he said.

"Appropriately so," she replied. Her voice caught in her throat when she spoke.

"That's an appropriate level of gay, you know." 

"Speaking of, how are you coping?"

"One, no. Two, I hope you mean Paul."

"Let's say I mean Paul." 

"Yeah, I miss her like crazy. She's still doing alright for an old bag though so that's some kind of reassuring, I guess. Karkat's been sending me photos of her all day," Dave said. "Wanna see?"

"Not particularly." 

"Mean. He got one of her doing that smiling thing, you know, where she's not actually smiling because she's a dragon and shit, but she knows you're about to feed her so she runs around with her mouth open? Yeah, it's pretty cool." 

"Accepting new step-fathers runs in the family, of course she's fine," Rose said. 

"Yeah, yeah, real fuckin' funny," he said as he slipped his phone out of his hoodie pocket. "Look."

"I vaguely recall mentioning that I don't particularly want to look at the photos."

"But I want to show you," he said. 

She sighed, humoring her brother as he flicked through the photos. 

After everything that had happened in the past hour, it was the least she could do. She sat quietly with her head resting on his shoulder, listening to him explain just how well Paul had been doing over the past few months. He scrolled down through his camera roll and until he got to the end of the newly added photos, then went back and opened another folder of images. He went over the pictures of his dorm building, scrolled past what seemed like hundreds of selfies, and talked her through a series of random shots he'd started collecting from around the city. 

They'd always known that getting Dave out of the woods would be good for him. 

He talked a lot while he went through the pictures. He knew that he would get the hang of sleeping through the noise eventually. He had a specialist appointment in a month to try and work on a new strategy for dealing with his vision. His lowest grade so far had been a B+ and he was trying to get course credits for the work he'd had published. 

The worst part of it all was that he knew what he was doing. His choice of conversation was deliberate, designed to force her into following his erratic thought patterns as a distraction. He'd had years of practice, she realised. 

He'd probably done the exact same thing for their mom when she had been at her lowest point. 

When her replies slowed and she reverted back to nods and small noises, he stopped talking and put his phone away. 

"You up for some z's?"

"Maybe," she said. "Thank you." 

"What else am I good for?"

"You're my favourite brother, don't let anyone tell you otherwise," she said, as she ducked out from under his arm. 

"Joke's on you, Rosie. I'm your only brother, Mom's not married yet." 

"I didn't mean John, I meant Cal." 

"Oh come on, I thought we were having a moment here but no, you had to throw Cal into the conversation, didn't you?"

"Cal was my brother long before you were," she said, trying to force a smile as she wiped her face free of tears with the back of her sleeve. "Imagine what that was like." 

"Never. Did you know that he took Cal with him? Like, an adult man packed his toy to fly overseas. He actually did that. Apparently Jake didn't know about it until they were already on the plane because they had to go through different security checks or something, and by then it was too late to do anything about it. I mean, what the fuck, Bro?" Dave said. His back cracked in three places when he finally stood up. 

"Are you surprised?"

"Not in the fucking slightest. You want me to sleep down here?" 

"No, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, that's what you said like forty five minutes of crying ago," he said, surreptitiously slipping the vodka bottle into his hoodie pocket. "You sure?"

"Very. You've put yourself out enough for me tonight," she said, clearing her throat with a forced cough. "More than enough."

"You're my favourite sister," he shrugged. "But while we're talking openly about the family shame, I'm gonna go knock back a fistful of precautionary Tylenol."

"Don't tell Mom?"

" _Don't_ tell Mom," he agreed. "Message me if you change your mind."

"I will," she said.

She watched as he disappeared almost silently out into the darkened living room, with just a small wave in her direction before the door closed completely. 

She hadn't even wished him a Merry Christmas.

+++

When John was thirteen, he'd learnt one important thing: if you couldn't see or hear something while you were awake, it didn't exist. 

Knowing something like that was the one thing that had helped him get through all that trouble mostly unscathed. He still had nightmares sometimes, still had thoughts that would creep into his mind while he was practicing and cause him to miss a key, still woke up inexplicably on edge at least once a month. But he knew that if he couldn't see it, it didn't exist. 

The same logic, unfortunately, didn't apply to Vriska. 

He knew that she was sitting in his bedroom, curled up on his computer chair with her knees pulled up to her chest. She hadn't said anything or tried to distract him, but he knew she was there, less than three feet away and hidden just beyond the reach of his poor peripheral vision.

The problem was, he'd been sitting at his keyboard for over thirty minutes and was convinced that he'd left it too long to say hello. Acknowledging her was going to be too awkward, so he just kept playing. 

"Egbert, do you read me?"

"Ow!" 

John instinctively reached up to try and hit whoever was responsible for lifting his headphones off. He wouldn't have cared so much if it had been Vriska, because that would have meant she actually thought he didn't know she was in the room. But the fact that the earpieces had been snapped back against the sides of his head told him it was definitely Dave, and Dave deserved to get hit.

"Hey, unfair," Dave said, retaliating with a quick slap before he darted across the room and did a front flip onto the bed. 

John spun his stool around, scowling, and tried to look surprised when he saw Vriska still sitting quietly in her chair. 

"Oh, man, how long have you guys been here?"

"That totally sounded like a genuine enquiry," Dave said, turning over to lie with his head hanging off the edge of John's bed. "I just got here. Do you know where my Tylenol is?"

"I think there's some in the bathroom?" John suggested as he lowered his headphones to rest around his neck. 

"No, I was just trying to make conversation, I know exactly where my shit is at all times. Throw me my backpack," he said, waving a hand expectantly.

"Did you _really_ just do a fucking flip?" Vriska asked. She picked up the backpack from the floor and threw it at Dave. "Don't get me wrong, I don't actually care. It just feels like it was a completely unnecessary thing to do."

"Flips in any form are always unnecessary but they're a thing I can do so sometimes I do them anyway," Dave explained. "Obviously."

"He went to like, gymnastics camp a few summers ago," John said.

"Dude, no. It was more like acrobatics classes or some shit, I don't know. I just wanted to do a backflip and asked mom to let me learn how to do backflips," he said, turning over again to dry-swallow two pills. "Way to make it sound lame."

"It was lame."

"Okay, sure. Another thing that sounds totally genuine out of your mouth in less than five minutes, yeah. Hey, so Rose is supposed to be sleeping," Dave went on, turning to Vriska. John frowned a little when he noticed Dave try to slip a small bottle into his backpack unnoticed. "And we both know that I'm never going to be your best fucking friend or whatever, but if you hear her crying or something can you Pester me?"

"What's the likelihood of that happening?" 

"Pretty much a full hundred and forty three percent."

"Ugh, she knows I have to get up early and go to work tomorrow, right?" Vriska asked, rolling her eyes for added dramatic flair. "Is she one of those annoying loud criers?"

"No. What's your car worth?" Dave asked.

"What?"

"Your shitty car. What's it worth?"

"Not a lot. I paid a few hundred for a pile of shit that my neighbour back home got running," Vriska explained skeptically, glancing back and forth between the two boys. "Why?"

"Because if it's not shitty, I'm not driving it," he said.

Vriska just stared.

"Why?"

"Because I've only ever driven shitboxes or minivans, and your car qualifies as a shitbox so we're cool. You tell me if Rose wakes up crying at four in the morning and I'll drive you to work. Deal?"

"No, why would I want you driving my car?"

"And I'll pick you up after your shift. Final offer," Dave said. "Okay, you tell me if Rosie starts again and I want a discount on my frapp."

"Your bargaining skills are fucking terrible."

"Wait, what's going on?" John asked, when he realised that he'd lost track of the conversation. "Whichever one of you is trying to rip the other one off, you should probably not do that."

"Thanks for the input, John," Vriska said. She let her feet slip off the edge of the chair and scooted closer to John's stool. "Dave's driving me to work tomorrow morning, are you coming?"

"Can I have a free coffee?"

"Yeah, but do you want to tell your dad you drank a whole, free coffee?" Vriska asked, cocking her left eyebrow.

John frowned. 

"She's got you there, Egbert," Dave snickered, without looking away from his phone. 

"See you in the morning," she said, hesitating - but only briefly - before she pressed a quick kiss to John's cheek. 

He grinned and waved at her as she left the room, closing the door behind her. He didn't move until long after her footsteps faded away down the hall and he'd convinced himself that he heard the study door latch shut downstairs. 

"How's Rose?" 

"She's okay, just lonely or some shit. She'll be fine, probably," Dave said. 

He'd been waiting for John to break the silence.

"Huh," John mused. 

"Hey, so now that the thief of common decency is gone, I need your opinion on something."

"Okay?" 

When Dave brandished his phone over the edge of the bed, John shuffled his stool closer so he could take the device; he had to stop and disentangle himself from the cord of his headphones before making it all the way across the room. 

Dave tapped his screen to light it up again before passing the iPhone over to John. 

"So Karkat says he wouldn't tap that, but there's no way that's the truth. We need an outside opinion to figure out who's the crazy one here,"

John just stared at the screen then looked down at Dave like he'd asked if he wanted to be part of a billion dollar insider trading scheme. 

"That's an alien, Dave." 

"Yeah, I know. But Karkat's just being his usual pissy self and trying to tell me he wouldn't even _consider_ going there, which is total bullshit and we both know it."

"What, and you would?"

"For science, probably," Dave shrugged. He held out his hand expectantly, grabbing at the air until John returned his cell along with a mildly disgusted look. "What? Still a no for science?" 

"No? It's probably full of like, alien hate and weird death-inducing diseases or something," John said, screwing up his nose. "That's fucking gross, dude. Is that even a girl alien?" 

"I don't know, that's not the point."

"It kind of is?"

"It's really not, we're talking about aliens. Yes or no?"

"Still no." 

"What if they were, like, the _Men In Black_ aliens?" Dave asked, as he tapped out another message on his phone. 

"I haven't even seen those movies and I know that I'd still say no," John said, scooting his stool back across to his keyboard. "Whatever. This is such a stupid conversation, Dave." 

"Wait, wait. Hold up - you've never seen _Men in Black_?"

"No?"

"Dude," Dave grinned. "Dude, you're in for a fucking treat. Man, we're doing all three of them tonight, no way you're getting out of this," he said, reaching down to pick his laptop up from under the edge of the bed. "Never fucking seen _Men in Black_ my ass, how is that even a thing?" 

"You know that watching dumb alien movies isn't gonna change my mind, right?"

"What? Nah, I remembered who I was talking to, sorry man," Dave said. "I sent Jade a message though, so we'll get an answer out of her in like January or something."

"Oh, gross. Why, Dave? Why would you do that?"

"Because she'll tell it like it is, bro. You coming?"

"Yeah," John sighed. He switched his keyboard off and flopped face-first onto his bed beside Dave. 

For all his talk about how great the movies were, Dave still hadn't put his phone down more than half an hour into the first one. Every few minutes he would tap out a reply to something, or scroll down one app, all while keeping the screen tilted just far enough towards the wall that John couldn't read it without moving first. 

It was kind of strange, but so was Dave. Every so often he recited a joke along with the actors, reassuring John that the only reason he was distracted was because he already knew when the best parts were coming. 

Of course, that meant John knew when something important was about to happen because Dave would stop typing long enough for the scene to end. 

The strangest part didn't happen until they were halfway through the second film. Dave checked his phone, paused the movie, and announced that they had a ten minute interval while Karkat went to get himself some breakfast. 

"Wait, what?" 

"What do you mean what?"

"Why is Karkat getting breakfast?" 

"Because it's like six in the morning in New York and his mom heard him being awake? Like, I don't want to perpetuate stereotypes or anything here but if you're conscious at his place and she hasn't seen you eat something in the last five minutes, you're eating something," Dave explained, rolling onto his back. "He said it'll probably be like fifteen in reality but no more than twenty because she's leaving for work, so." 

"No, why should I give a fuck about Karkat's breakfast?" John asked. He pushed up from his elbows to sit cross-legged for a while instead. 

"Dude, I said we were about to watch _Men in Black_ and he got all 'how dare you' at me and pulled it up on Netflix because he's like the only guy who still appreciates Will Smith's entire back catalogue. I told him when to hit play and he's been watching in tandem," Dave said, sitting up as well. 

"Have you been talking to him this whole time?" 

"Yeah, pretty much. Why?" 

"I guess you really talk to him a lot, huh?"

"It's not like he's got much choice at six in the morning," Dave shrugged. 

"No, I mean, like. Yeah. Never mind," John frowned. "I need to pee." 

"Have fun?"

"Gross."

+++

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" 

If Dirk had taken even a few seconds to think before he spoke, he would have realised that his outburst did nothing but inform the entire queue he was their token brash American.

Almost four hours earlier, they had been driven back into Newbury to catch the train into London. They had gone from car, to train, to tube, then up into the terminal. Dirk had been stuck alone in security for over an hour, while Jake was fast tracked through because of a combination of his clearance level and local passport. 

Months of anticipation. 

Four hours of tedious transit. 

"Come on, mate," Jake said quietly. "Terrifically sorry, he's a nervous flyer. Got himself all worked up for nothing is all," he added, throwing the desk attendant the most apologetic look he could muster. "We'll pop back over later, shall we?" 

"There's a big difference between delayed and fuckin' cancelled," Dirk said, his words clipped as Jake led him back over to the waiting area with a reassuring hand on his lower back. "How do they not know which fucking one it is?"

"They probably don't know how extensive the issue is yet," Jake suggested, moving his hand to Dirk's knee as they sat back down in the moulded plastic chairs. "I'm sure they'll update us when they know."

"Yeah, in what, eight hours?"

"What do you want to do, Dirk?"

"What?" 

"What do you want to do?"

Dirk slowly cracked each one of his knuckles as he let Jake's words sink in, everything sluggish as he tried to reboot his rational thought process after a week of running on minimal brainpower. 

He couldn't do anything about the plane. There was no way of telling how long it would be before they got an answer out of the airline, or how long they could feasibly be stuck in the terminal before being directed to a new gate. He took out his phone and checked the time, handed it to Jake, then unzipped the top of his backpack. Everything was still there, just like it had been back in Jake's childhood bedroom, and they had all of their belongings with them as cabin luggage. 

There were three options, and three options exactly. 

They could wait.

They could pack up and try to get on a different airline back to the United States. 

Neither of the first two options seemed to be right. Dirk zipped his backpack up again and took his phone from the armrest between their chairs, flipping rapidly between a handful of apps. 

"Dirk?" 

"Huh?"

"I can just about _smell_ the gears turning in your noggin from here," Jake said. Dirk saw him glance over at the queue, which was even longer than it had been before, then up at the departures board as if hoping to find a rescheduled time there already. 

"They're a bit rusty," he said. "We'll give it an hour." 

"Then?" 

"And if we're not scheduled by then, we're getting out of here and rebooking tickets for tomorrow. I'm not sitting in a fucking airport terminal for an indeterminate amount of time while no one has a god damn clue what's going on."

"Sounds like a smashing plan," Jake said. "But you do know that tomorrow happens to be New Year's Eve, don't you?"

"Inconsequential. I've got an unnecessary amount of disposable income, too many flyer miles, and I'm just desperate enough to get home that I'll take whatever seat they can give me," Dirk said, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back against the wall. He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, mirroring the action with his arms across his chest. "Anything but economy, obviously," he added, cracking one eye to witness the reaction. 

"And to think that you almost managed to sound grateful for a second there," Jake chuckled, as he picked up an abandoned newspaper from the chair to his right. 

Dirk managed to suppress what would have been a blatantly snark-filled reply in favour of opening both eyes in order to Google last minute hotel deals in central London.

If he was going to be stuck in England for another day or two, and the frustrated expressions worn by the flight attendants told him that he would be, he felt almost obligated to turn their misfortune into something like the vacation they'd never bothered taking. 

After years of meeting almost exclusively in hotels of varying quality and comfort, deliberately spending time away from home together had always seemed like a terrible idea. But the chance was there, and in light of the conversation he'd had with Jake's mother less than a week earlier, it felt like he'd be wasting an opportunity if he didn't make the call.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?"

"It's been fifty two minutes."

"Do you want to wait it out a little longer?"

"No. But I just want to say, in my defence, that I had fuck all else to do for those fifty two minutes," Dirk said.

"Dirk," Jake warned, one eyebrow rising well above the rim of his glasses. "What the devilfucking dickens did you do and why are you preemptively apologising for it?"

"I'm not apologising for shit, except maybe the fact I've waited until now to book us a vacation."

"Oh, Christ on a stick, you're going to be the next washed-up celebrity to declare bankruptcy, aren't you?"

"Look, if that's a thing I ever have to worry about, I'll let you know. But here's what we're doing," Dirk said, standing as he shouldered his backpack and slipped his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. "We're not just waiting around here all night. That's not a thing I was going to let happen, because fuck that for a god damn cosmic joke. I've got us on a flight out in two days, mid-morning on the first when everyone's still hungover from New Years. Because it's a reschedule from this poorly handled cock up, we got free business upgrades so I didn't even have to throw thousands flyer miles at that. In the meantime, we're booked into this swish hotel back in the city and as of six o'clock tonight, it's entirely up to you what we do."

"Fuck."

"Is that a suggestion or just a lack of better vocabulary?" Dirk asked, unable to prevent the twitch of something like a smile.

"The latter," Jake deadpanned. "It is, however, only two in the afternoon now. How do you propose we fill in those four hours?" Jake asked. He followed Dirk's lead, collecting their possessions from the pile by their feet and watched as Dirk double checked that they had everything. 

"Check in, leave everything at the hotel, then tell Twitter where I'm going to be for a full two hours so if anyone wants a once-in-a-lifetime photo with Cal outside of the continental U.S., they better haul ass to Hyde Park between three and five." 

"And everything sounded quite marvellous until you said that last bit, well done," Jake said with a feigned sigh, clapping Dirk's shoulder as they started off back towards security.

+++

Dave breathed deeply, the familiar combination of jetfuel and his mother's perfume filling his nose and reviving memories of all her departures from over a decade earlier. 

She had spent so many hours reassuring him over the years that she would always come home. It all felt so familiar, so safe, and he didn't want to let her go, not this time. She had one hand at his nape, stroking through his hair, and the other slowly patting between his shoulder blades. 

He could only hold on in return, eyes closed tightly behind his protective lenses, and hope that he didn't start crying. 

There was no avoiding the fact that it would be months before he saw her again. She was flying out of Seattle the next day, stopping home in upstate New York for three days, then flying out to Geneva for a minimum twelve week stint. 

It would be the end of March before she got home again. 

He wouldn't see her until March. 

"You gotta get your plane, baby," she whispered.

"I know." 

"I'll try to get a weekend off to fly back."

Dave nodded, but didn't loosen his grip. 

"I really miss you," he mumbled. "I really, _really_ fucking miss you, Mom."

"Are you getting a cab back to your building? _Please_ tell me you're getting a cab."

"Yeah, we'll drop Rosie at Newark Station then I'll just keep going over into the city from there," he said. 

"Okay, text me when you're home," she said, turning to press a kiss to his temple. "Now go before they have to put a call over for the missing Lalonde and Strider kids."

"Yeah, okay."

"Dave, baby, you forgot to let go."

"Shit, that sure is a fucked up thing to forget," he said, squeezing her one last time before finally convincing himself to drop his arms and step back out of the hug. 

Roxy smiled and reached over, dusting invisible lint from the shoulders of his duffle coat. She fiddled with the top toggle, straightened out the two hoods hanging down his back, and slowly ran a hand through his bangs one last time; she smiled as he shook them right back out when she was done. 

He almost - _almost_ \- wished he'd taken Rose's advice and said his goodbyes back at the house. 

"Go on," she encouraged him. "Rosie, get over here," she added, waving her arms wildly in her daughter's direction as Dave finally stepped out of the way.

He had another goodbye to say. 

"Hey, so, whe - oof!"

John was suddenly wrapped around him. 

"Bye, Dave," he said, squeezing tightly enough that Dave felt his own ribs shift slightly inwards. 

"Holy shit, dude, you trying to kill me or something?"

"Nah, that'd be dumb. How would you come back and visit again if I killed you?" John asked. He loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, giving Dave room to actually return the gesture. 

"If you killed me, bro, you'd have to come visit me. No one's putting me in the ground in Washington, that'd be a fuckin' tragedy in itself. Me, Dave fucking Lalonde, dead and buried on the west coast? _Bullshit_ , John. It's bullshit. My public wouldn't approve."

"You don't have a public, you idiot."

"I'm a bonafide social media magnate."

"Okay, but that's definitely bullshit," John said, dropping out of the hug with a scowl. 

"Use the fucking Instagram we put on your phone, John," Dave deadpanned. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and retrieved his phone from the left. "Oh my God, Mom, Bro's pulled some shit and he's not coming back today or something, shit!"

He was cut off by a second boarding call for his flight. 

"You should come back for real though," John said, hands in his own pockets. He gave a strangled cry when Dave hugged him again, more tightly than before, his fingers curling into the back of John's hoodie. 

"Mom's set a precedent now, no one can stop me," he mumbled. "You're still my favourite, John." 

"Dude, way to make it weird!" 

"Nah, that was just a dose of the cold, hard truth," Dave said, as he finally let go. "Oh, shit, I can't believe I almost fucking forgot," he added, stepping back. 

"What?" 

"Shit, okay, we get it, fuck off," he swore; another boarding reminder. "I never punched you in the dick." 

"Okay, baby, get on your plane," Roxy interrupted, grabbing Dave by the shoulder to spin him in the direction of his gate. "I had to call in a _huge_ favour to say goodbye to my children on this side of security, don't make me regret using it. Go home." 

"Alright, alright," he said, continuing the spin all the way around to hug her again. "I'm going. Look at me on the fucking plane already, yeah, see, waving from the window like I think you can see me. Maybe if I wave enough and believe enough all like, I do believe in seeing through walls, I do, I do, we can all believe I'm on that plane right fucking now," he mumbled into her hair. 

"God, I love you so much, baby, but you really are the clingiest child belonging to anyone this side of paradox space," Roxy said, trying to gently coax him into letting go. "Rose is getting impatient."

"Kanaya flew back yesterday, of course she's fucking impatient."

"Get on the plane, baby. For everyone's sake, please just get on the fucking plane," Roxy said, gesturing for Rose to take him by the elbow. "Bye, hun. Actually call me when you get home, would you?"

"I will," Rose said, grabbing hold of Dave's sleeve.

He frowned, but let his sister drag him through the gate and out towards the gangway. 

When he turned around for one last goodbye, as the attendant scanned his ticket, he watched his mother wrap an arm around John's shoulders and hold him close.

"Dave, the plane," Rose prompted him. 

They were the last two passengers to board.

+++

Dave woke with a start to the dull sensation of his phone vibrating on his chest. 

When the plane had landed in Newark, he and Rose hailed a taxi to drop her at the station and take him all the way back to his dorm. 

He'd dropped his bags in the middle of the floor, booted up his computer, and collapsed down onto his bed sometime after two in the afternoon. Waking up early that morning, combined with the general exhaustion that came with travelling, the warmth of his room had lulled him to sleep in minutes.

CG: MOM MADE THAT ONE CHICKEN THING YOU LIKE. DINNER'S UP IN HALF AN HOUR.


	2. [I16]: Guns Keep You Safe in the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we warp halfway around the world and spend some time in the jungle.

**January, 2015**

It was raining again. 

It hadn't stopped raining for days. The rain had started a few weeks earlier and it had hardly eased since. Some days, the skies opened and water fell for hours without letting up. Those were not productive days. There was no safe way to trek, or film, or do much at all outside the vehicles. Other days were filled with a lighter rain, something softer, and it meant that work could finally be done. 

While Grandpa was gone, Jade slept. 

She had started the day with good intentions. There were files to stack, papers to sort out, and samples to catalogue. She had studies to complete. It was already too late for her to graduate at a real high school, but she was determined to get her G.E.D. when she was next in America. 

With a physics textbook propped open on her knees, she wriggled her bare toes under the hem of her long cotton skirt to keep the bugs away while studied. One page, then another, she worked her way through half a chapter of material that she'd understood for years already. Her hammock, strung up between the Land Rover and a production van, was protected from the rain but not the wind; she swung gently in the breeze, reaching down between page turns to scratch Bec's ears. 

Bec whined. 

Then, without warning, a yawn. 

She flipped her book over and sunk down in the hammock, already prepared for the next inevitable nap. 

When she fell asleep, only minutes later, it was to the sounds of cascading water, thunder high up in the clouds above her, and a golden moon crashing into the Earth. 

Her sleep was broken, of poor quality, and she always woke up exhausted, but there was no clock to follow in the jungle. She had learnt to nap when she needed the rest, however inconvenient the timing was for her or anyone else. Her dreams were as vivid as they had always been, awful but wonderful, convincing and confusing. 

She woke up to Bec's warning growl and Grandpa looking down the sight of her rifle. 

"Bec!" 

He let out single, sharp bark before returning to her side for ear scratches.

"You fell asleep with it unloaded again, pumpkin," Grandpa said, aiming the gun down into a valley. "But I fixed that right up for you!"

"It's my gun and I can choose whether I want to keep it loaded or not!" Jade exclaimed, sitting up in her hammock. She gestured for Bec to jump up and he did, settling down beside her feet.

"Of course you can, provided that the choice is between keeping it loaded or keeping your shotgun loaded instead."

"Grandpa!"

"You know the rules, pumpkin. Guns keep you safe in the jungle," Grandpa said seriously. He sat down in a rusted folding chair by the door to the van, the rifle resting over his lap.

"Bec keeps me safe!"

"Bec doesn't know how to use a high caliber rifle."

"He doesn't have thumbs."

"You've got me there," he chuckled. "Are you hungry?"

"No," she said, out of spite. She was hungry - starving, in fact - but her grandpa was being too overbearing and she didn't want to indulge him. She would eat later. 

"We got some fascinating footage today. You can look over it once that moron from the production company gets me a copy."

"Did you find the frogs? I thought I saw one yesterday, but, then. But," Jade paused, furrowing her brows. "John!"

"Pardon?"

"John! Dammit, I think we missed Christmas again, Grandpa!" 

"No, that can't be right," he said, shaking his head. "Can't be right at all." 

Jade watched him stand and prop her rifle against the side of the RV before he stepped up into the vehicle, muttering to himself as he went. Once he was inside, she stealthily slipped off the edge of her hammock and snatched the gun from its resting place. She flipped it so the muzzle was pointed towards the dirt between her feet, re-engaged the safety, and opened the bolt to unload the bullets. 

"You're right, it's already the thirteenth of Janua - what are you doing, pumpkin?"

"You left the safety off!" 

"I most certainly did not! I disengaged it so as to be ready a moment's notice!"

"You disengaged the safety!"

"You'll thank me one of these days, now give me my chair back," Grandpa said, disgruntled by Jade's outburst. 

She stood up, dropped the ammunition onto the ground, and scowled through one final check of her rifle before she moved away to let him sit back down in the picnic chair. 

"Leave my guns alone," she snapped. She sat down again on the van steps and twisted sideways in the door, sliding her back down against one wall and her feet up the other. "Did you say January?" 

"I did," Grandpa laughed. "We lost another month in there, I'm afraid."

"We missed my birthday, Christmas, and New Year," she said sadly. "Again."

"But we've had some marvelous adventures."

"Yeah, I guess those have been pretty good. Except for the part where you forgot that I am definitely old enough to manage my own guns!"

"Not now, Jade," Grandpa grunted.

"Can I turn the satellite on for a while? I mean, I missed Christmas! It's only ten o'clock in Seattle, John should still be awake. Well, maybe. Please? Half an hour?" 

Jade tried to look as upset as she could while Grandpa thought about the request. It wasn't often that they turned on communications, because the connection fees were all paid for by various companies, and Grandpa didn't like taking advantage of their generosity. She usually only managed to sneak online for a few minutes while they were sending data or important footage back to the mainland, and even then, she could only get through if all the technology was feeling agreeable. 

"Twenty minutes," he said eventually. 

"Thanks!" Jade exclaimed, bouncing up from her place in the doorway. She darted over and threw her arms around Grandpa, before she ran back into the RV with Bec only a step or two behind; she knew her twenty minutes would include the connection time. 

She skidded to a halt in front of the communications and flipped a few switches, booting her laptop while she waited for the signal to pick up. Lights flashed on the console and she made a few changes in the order of the switches, searching for the connection that had been the most reliable in the past few hours. 

Her computer started beeping as over a month's worth of messages began to flow into her account. 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] at 16:13 --

GG: john!!!  
GG: you better still be awake you butt  
GG: i only have fifteen minutes D:  
GT: jade!  
GT: you missed christmas! why would you do that, jade? do you know what you missed? do you? do you really?  
GG: fill me in!!   
GG: im trying to read everything that everyone has said  
GG: but theres so much so i might have to let it load and read it all offline later!  
GT: okay, here goes:  
GT: christmas was kind of the coolest christmas ever, except for the part where you were still out in the jungle and i missed you.  
GG: aw <3  
GT: anyway  
GT: everyone came over! like, actually everyone. dad and roxy bought tickets for dave and rose! dave and rose were at my house for christmas, jade!   
GT: and vriska, but she lives in seattle now so that's not as exciting.   
GG: does she still think youre her boyfriend? :P  
GT: what?  
GT: how do you know about that?  
GG: everyone knows about that  
GT: everyone?  
GG: everyone  
GT: yeah, but like, actually everyone?  
GG: everyone john!!!!  
GT: why does everyone think that, anyway?  
GG: because you let her do stuff like shes your girlfriend???  
GT: name one thing.  
GG: you spend basically all of your free time with her  
GG: you kiss her a lot?  
GG: you invited her to your house for christmas!!!  
GG: youre way nicer to her than you are to a lot of people  
GG: you kiss her a lot!!!  
GT: i do not! well, i mean, i guess there's kissing and stuff but that's not my fault!  
GG: okay this is really fun to talk about but i dont have time!!  
GG: what else is happening?  
GT: uh. huh.   
GG: quickly!!!!  
GT: i can't think that quickly! a lot has happened since november.   
GT: rose is even weirder in person.  
GT: it's raining.  
GT: dad stopped by after work to drop off some more gingerbread.  
GG: none of this is unexpected!!!!  
GT: i guess nothing that exciting happened?  
GG: hang on  
GG: dave is trying to talk to me and he keeps sending dumb messages to get my attention  
GG: try to remember something exciting in the meantime!!

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 16:17 --

TG: holy shit harley   
TG: you havent been swallowed up by the vermicious knids  
TG: cool willy wonka joke dave  
TG: i know right  
TG: cmon harley i know youre there  
TG: jade  
TG: jade cmon  
TG: i asked you an important thing like three weeks ago  
TG: and now youre online and youre blatantly ignoring me  
TG: harley  
TG: harley  
TG: jade  
GG: the more bullshit you send at me the harder it is to find the question!!!  
GG: give me a second!  
TG: okay  
TG: ps hi how are you  
GG: okay but why?  
TG: why what  
TG: i figured it was some kind of good manners to ask how your jungle friend is doing these days  
GG: no why did you need to know if i would fuck an alien? :O  
TG: hahah because i was trying to make a point  
TG: yes or no harley  
TG: theres actually money on this by now btw  
GG: >:/  
TG: you know how it is  
TG: i start some bullshit  
TG: people dont play along  
TG: so the bullshit grows  
TG: and grows  
TG: then festers a little until its really fucking nasty  
TG: which sort of brings us up to speed on whole situation because sure in retrospect weird question outta nowhere  
TG: but if you want the tally so far its like six yeses four nos and one what even is sex  
TG: and you can guess which one is john  
TG: its the last one  
TG: in case you couldnt  
TG: please just answer the question so we can all move on with our lives   
TG: and never speak of this again  
GG: probably??  
GG: for science though because thats still a weird thing to do :O  
TG: hey no thats exactly what i said  
TG: like thats a scientific opportunity that wouldnt come up a lot now would it  
TG: so youd kind of have to run with with and see what happens  
TG: because the next thing you know you missed your chance and the cia are onto you  
TG: and then no one will ever know because you hesitated  
GG: youve thought about this way too much dave!!  
TG: youre not the first person to say that  
TG: okay but for real how is it over there  
TG: lay it on me eliza thornberry  
GG: :D  
GG: same as always i guess  
GG: grandpa is insufferable and keeps loading my rifle  
GG: every time i put it down i come back and its loaded again!!! today he even left the safety off :(  
GG: bec says hi!!!  
GG: and its still raining  
TG: wow so no surprises there  
GG: haha thats what i said to john!! what about you?  
TG: classes started  
TG: got a doctors appointment coming up  
TG: and i dread the inevitable end of the starbucks christmas specials season  
GG: no surprises there :P  
GG: ugh grandpa!!!!  
TG: whats he doing  
GG: that annoying throat clearing thing that means i need to turn the communications off :(  
TG: shit sorry for monopolising your time  
GG: i better tell john i have to go :(  
GG: ill send you a letter when the supplies come in at the end of the month!!  
GG: say hi to karkat for me!!  
TG: will do  
TG: later harley   
GG: bye dave!!! <3 <3 <3

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] at 16:22 --

GT: jaaaaaaaade.  
GT: jade? are you talking to dave?  
GT: you are, he just told me.  
GT: i remembered the important thing! but i don't know if i should tell you or not.   
GT: like i want to tell you!   
GT: but i'm not so sure i'm allowed to yet? i mean, you're a pretty safe person to tell because you live in the jungle like a wild animal, so you're not going to blab to everyone.   
GT: you got sucked into dave's vortex of bullshit, didn't you? dammit, jade!  
GT: okay, you're almost out of time now so goodnight i guess? please try to get online again soon so i can tell you the thing!   
GT: i miss y

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] is now offline! --

"Dammit, Grandpa!" Jade exclaimed. She turned in her chair with so much force that it almost toppled over and onto Bec. "I was saying goodbye!"

"A time limit is a time limit, pumpkin."

"I was in the middle of saying goodbye! You can't keep just turning off the signal, it scares John!"

"Oh, pish posh," Grandpa said dismissively. "He should know by now that you're perfectly safe. Come back outside and have something to eat."

"I forgot to say Merry Christmas," she said, snatching up a bottle of water from the fridge a she followed him back outside. 

"You can try again tomorrow."

"Really?"

"I'll need you to send the company some of the footage we collected today. It should take about two hours," Grandpa explained. 

"Why didn't you say that before? I could have told John I'd talk to him tomorrow!" Jade said. She tossed the water bottle over onto her hammock and picked up her rifle again, carefully pointing it at the dirt while she opened the bolt. "Dammit!"

"I left the safety on for you this time," he said proudly.

"Thank you but please stop putting bullets in my gun!" 

"We can negotiate this issue at a later date," Grandpa said, as Jade dragged a second folding chair up to their ancient card table. 

She sat down, scowling, and slung her rifle onto the table itself before lining up the three bullets on the edge. 

"I can see them, they're in reach, and we both know I can load them myself faster than you can," she said.

"It would cost you valuable seconds if we were to be attacked while distracted by our dinner," Grandpa said. 

He sat down at the table and handed her a bowl of cold leftovers from the day before. Jade picked up her spoon and started eating, willing to put a hold on the argument until she was done; she was hungrier than she'd thought she was. Thirstier, too, but her water bottle was lying on her hammock and she wanted to finish eating before she got up again. 

"Jade? Are you in there, pumpkin?" 

"Huh?"

"You tuned out for a little bit. Did you get much sleep today, or just the nap you were taking when I got back?"

"Uh, that was the second one. I think," she said. 

More than half of her dinner was gone, but she didn't remember eating it. 

"Finish that, then go lie down. I'll hold the fort for a few hours," Grandpa said, as he examined one of his own rifles. "Bec, you go with her now, see to it that you come and find me if you're concerned," he added, without looking up. 

Bec didn't answer. 

Jade pushed her bowl into the center of the table and stood up, taking her rifle and the bullets back over to her hammock. She climbed up into the fabric and sunk down until she was comfortable, with the gun resting alongside her knees and the bullets still in her fist. 

Bec whined, but with no space made available to him on the hammock he curled up beneath it instead, keeping watch over Jade as she slowly drifted off again. 

It was still raining.


	3. [A5.2A2]: was it a dick move?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is unexpected.

**February, 2015**

"Why do you smell like decaying flesh?"

"Lovely," Jake said. He pulled the truck door closed and gave Dirk a quick kiss before reaching for his seatbelt. "There were shenanigans involved, to say the least."

"Shenanigans."

"That's what I said. Shall we?"

Dirk turned the engine over at the prompt, but didn't put the truck in gear until he'd finished looking Jake over for any obvious sign of injury. 

"Are you going to elaborate?"

"Nothing to elaborate on, really," Jake said, waving a hand dismissively. "There was an incident, it led to shenanigans, and now here we are."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You'd just fuss."

"Did anyone get sent to the hospital?" 

"Do you mean the actual hospital, or the on-site clinic?"

"Either."

"No, nothing like that."

"So I get nothing but you mysteriously covered in the stench of a rotting corpse," Dirk said. He finally let out the clutch and started moving slowly through the parking lot. 

"Absolutely nothing," Jake said. "How was your day then?"

"I spent four hours on the phone with a publishing house talking layout because they won't just run with the draft I gave them," Dirk said, turning out onto the road. "I told them there's still unfinished text and art to go in, but they're convinced they have it somehow even though it's not finished yet."

"How'd that work out?"

"They decided to wait until I give the all clear next week sometime," he shrugged. 

He didn't need to mention the part where he'd made an assistant editor cry.

"You're just nitpicking now though, aren't you?" Jake asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. He cracked the window a little and propped his elbow up beside the glass. "Everything has been done for weeks."

"I'm just taking the necessary precautions. I can't send that shit to print if it's crammed full of factual inaccuracies and blatant lies."

"Excluding the ones you've deliberately put in, correct?"

"Exactly," Dirk said. "The inaccuracies have to be accurate in the context of the wider narrative that goes back at least two decades or else it's just two hundred pages of pointless bullshit, and my bullshit has always had a point."

"You _have_ always been consistent on that front," Jake agreed. "Oh, and they asked me to join the Institute full time," he added quickly. 

He felt the seatbelt tighten across his chest when Dirk hit the brakes with a little more force than he'd been anticipating. 

"And?"

"And I pointed out that they've already asked twice this year and it's only February."

"You think they might be trying to tell you something?" Dirk asked, crunching the gears as he moved back up into second when the lights changed, distracted by the conversation. 

"Of course they are," Jake said shortly. "They were about as blunt about it as they could be today, and I had to endure that conversation while covered in the liquid that caused the lingering stench of decay that you've already pointed out."

"What the fuck actually happened there?"

"I'm trying to tell you."

"I meant with the smell."

"That's not important," he said, opening his window a little more. "They want me to get in on the school program full time instead of just consulting because they have a role that falls smack bang between all of my qualifications and experience. The problem is that would take me out of the field almost entirely and I'm not entirely convinced I'd enjoy that."

"Same logical reasoning as always, go on," Dirk said, turning the car off the main road and into a side street.

"They sent an Associate Director this time. How many times can I say no before they stop asking entirely? I'm in no way ready to give up my current duties at present, but in two, three, five years? What if I've turned down so many offers they stop considering me as a potential candidate for what is, admittedly, an enjoyable job?" Jake asked, turning to look over at Dirk in the drivers' seat.

"They won't. They'll send that same director for the next two, three, or five years, and then when they start sending the even-higher-ups, you go with whatever the better option is in five years. Just don't get any interns maimed beyond repair in the meantime," Dirk said, turning onto their block. 

"Perhaps. It's a delicate balance, like, what if - oh, no."

"What are yo - the fuck!"

Jake was already out of the truck before Dirk realised he was even moving. 

He swore again, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street with the passengers' side door still hanging open. He lunged over and pulled it shut then swung the vehicle around into the drive, leaving the keys in the ignition as he bolted after Jake towards the house. 

"What the _fuck_ was that stunt all about?" Dirk shouted, taking the three front steps in a single stride. "Jake, for Christ's sake, you just jumped out of a moving tr -"

He stopped suddenly when he realised that the front door was still locked.

Jake was standing on the porch, bewildered, with Dave hugging him tightly around the chest.

+++

"Captor, your enrolment in this institution has been mysterious, to say the least. You scored well above the top percentile for high school graduates in your SATs and yet late last semester you were placed on academic probation because of your minimal attendance. We were assured that taking you on would be of benefit to the university, but I must say, so far we are not impressed."

Sollux tried to sit up a little straighter in his chair; it was the least he could do.

"There's no mystery. I'm enrolled here because I didn't want to go to MIT."

"Well apparently you don't want to go here either, judging from your academic performance."

"Of course I don't," he said. "It was this or Rikers."

"Or MIT."

"MIT was never an option."

"But you were offered a position there," the President said, urging Sollux to give an explanation.

"Yeah, and I turned them down. Twice."

"In favour of us."

"Again, it was here or Rikers."

"Why?"

"Because MIT's in _Boston_ ," Sollux said distastefully. 

"You turned down the opportunity to study at one of the most exclusive colleges in the country because of its location?"

"And because I'm a piece of shit who would have been a waste of space up there, but mostly the geographical thing."

There was a lull in the conversation as the college President shuffled around some papers on his desk; from where he was sitting, Sollux could see that half of the sheets were blank. 

"We are under strict orders to see that you stay enrolled in this institution. While we have been kept in the dark in regards to your legal history, we have full access to your high school records. You could pass every exam without batting an eyelid."

"Yeah, and?"

"And if you simply turned up more than once a week, you'd be graduating early with honours."

"So?"

"So not many people have the ability to do something like that, Mr. Captor."

"Okay," Sollux said. "But you just said you have to keep me enrolled, so no matter what I do you can't kick me out."

"That's not what you should be taking away from this meeting," the President said. 

Before he could continue, Sollux waved a hand dismissively and stood up in preparation to leave the office. 

"I'm still enrolled here because someone called you from an untraceable number last week and told you to bring me in for this meeting and I can tell you now, the source of that number is located inside the Hoover building in D.C.," he said. "I had three choices. One of them, MIT, was just fucking stupid. The second was Rikers, and the third was this place. This place is boring, because I already know everything right up through the fourth-year syllabus. But if I'm here, I'm not in Rikers, not yet, anyway. And if I'm not in Rikers before I hit twenty-one, I'm a fucking success story. Are we finished here?"

"We'd like to see you here at least three days out of every five."

"Who are you going to call first if I don't turn up, my caseworker or my designated FBI babysitter of the month?" Sollux deadpanned. 

"We're more likely to start with a guardian."

"Dad's navy. Good fucking luck."

"You may go. Think about everything we discussed here today, Mr. Captor." 

When the President turned his attention back towards his monitor, Sollux took that as his cue to leave. He shouldered his satchel and walked out of the office, turning his cell phone over in his hand. 

Two blocks to class. 

He flicked the screen of his phone on and checked for any messages or missed calls. There was nothing there, and somehow, that was even worse than he'd been expecting. 

He started walking. 

"Holy fucking shit."

Sollux ignored Karkat's attempted whisper as he sat down in the empty chair beside him fifteen minutes later. 

"Is he really talking about Java?"

"My question first," Karkat hissed. "Four weeks in and you finally make your second appearance?"

"The class has the word 'introduction' in it's name, KK."

"And?"

"And my guess was it'd be a waste of time. He's actually talking about Java, oh my God. Am I supposed to sit here and pretend I'm actually learning all this for the first time?"

"Yes?"

"Oh fuck, what now?" Sollux said, a little too loudly when he was called on by the professor.

"Yes, you, scrawny blonde who only just got here. Can you tell us where to find the bug in the above code?"

"Which one?"

"What do you mean, which one?"

"I mean which one out of the four? Lines eighty one, ninety six, one seventeen, and one twenty four," he said indignantly. "Admittedly, it'll still compile with ninety six the way it is but it won't do what you say it will."

Karkat rolled his eyes at the exchange; it was like highschool all over again.

"Are you satisfied?"

"No, because it was a trick question. Any moron could have seen that. Oh come on, KK, tell me you could see those bugs."

"I missed line ninety six, but that's not the point."

"It's not, I already said it'll still compile like that. Less bug, more programming quirk, provided you change the command three lines above it so it makes sense."

"Okay, okay," Karkat snapped. "Just shut up and let me concentrate, assmunch."

Sollux gave a feigned sigh and dropped his head onto the desk in front of him. He vaguely listened to the remainder of the lecture, but with his head down he didn't have to put up with looking at the badly-parsed coding on the professors' slideshow. 

He passed the rest of the hour in much the same way, periodically raising a hand to answer questions before the professor had even asked for input. His head only left the table once, when he'd felt the need to call a mature-age student a washed up relic of the dot com era, before returning to his hunched over position on the desk. 

"So why are you here?" Karkat asked, kicking sludge off his boots as they entered the Starbucks a block back towards Washington Square Park after class. He pushed back the two hoods he was wearing and threw his coat down on one of the armchairs by the window.

Sollux did much the same, but only put in enough effort to remove the larger chunks of snow from his shoes.

"To get an education."

"That's bullshit, but I appreciate the sarcasm."

"I live to serve. Get me a mocha," Sollux said, already draped over one of the chairs with his laptop out. "I'll pay you back later."

"Okay, now that's some kind of fucked up joke, right? You'll pay me back for this coffee when you pay me back for that five bucks from the third grade," Karkat scowled. "It's all bullshit. Any syrup?"

"Caramel."

Sollux watched the back of Karkat's head as he got into the line, before turning his attention back to the computer screen on the table in front of him. There wasn't much he could do with a public connection - at least, nothing interesting or worthwhile - so he just checked on his downloads and flicked over to his course syllabus to see if there was anything remotely interesting scheduled for before senior year. 

There wasn't.

He switched to his phone and replied to the seven texts of gibberish that his brother had sent him over the past hour, asking for a little more clarity on whatever the subject was meant to be. 

"They were out, you got butterscotch instead," Karkat said, dropping into the armchair opposite Sollux. He slid one coffee across the table, took a sip from the other, then swapped the cups around to fix his mistake. 

"I don't care," Sollux said, taking the paper cup from the center of the table.

"So why are you actually here today?"

"I had a meeting with the president this morning. He's an asshole."

"Still on probation?"

"I think I made it worse."

"Gee, no one could have seen that coming," Karkat said, dropping his phone onto the table beside his coffee. "How bad was it?"

"I don't know. He asked about MIT, I said fuck, he shuffled blank pa - pages," Sollux said.

Karkat cocked an eyebrow at the strange hesitation. 

"What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing, KK. Shut the fuck up. What?"

"What're you staring at?" 

"Nothing," Sollux said again, reaching for his coffee.

He missed, fingers grabbing at the air six inches away from the cup. 

Karkat turned in his chair to glance back over his shoulder, but Sollux reached out and kicked him before he could really figure out exactly what the source of the distraction was. 

"Holy shit, are you staring at that girl? Like. That's a real girl," Karkat said incredulously, too surprised to even complain about the sharp pain in his shin. "You know that's an actual human girl, right?

"No shit. And no, I'm not staring. I looked. Big deal, fuck."

"You didn't even look when what's-her-face accidentally got her tits out junior year."

"What?"

"Dude, you're paying more attention to that girl than you did to anything else all morning. Go talk to her."

"Uh, how about no?"

"Uh, how about yes?"

"Why?" Sollux scowled. 

"Humour me," Karkat said flatly. "Just fucking humour me, you sad sack of fucking shit."

"Why?"

"Because eventually you might have to acknowledge that there are more people in this world than you, me, Dave, and Mituna."

"Why?"

He knew the joke was wearing thin when the left corner of Karkat's mouth twitched downwards. 

Sollux made a big show of rolling his eyes as he snatched up his coffee from the table and stalked over to the condiment station. He took the lid off his cup and waited; the girl beamed when she saw him standing there and handed him the sugar.

It was a short conversation. He didn't get to find out much about her and his own replies were short and to the point - for a brief second, he considered the probability that he might actually be spending too much time at home with only his brother for company. But the girl never stopped smiling, not even when he said he really should get back to what he'd been doing. 

He waved awkwardly as she left the cafe, and watched as she disappeared down through the park to head off to her next class.

"So?" Karkat hissed across the table, leaning forwards over his laptop. 

"So what?"

"How'd it go?"

Sollux shrugged. 

"She seemed normal," he said with another shrug, holding out his hand to show Karkat the words scrawled across his palm. "I got her screen name."

"Anyone's normal compared to yo - oh for fucks sake, really? She's a fucking lunatic. Of course she's a fucking lunatic," Karkat said, swatting Sollux's hand away. 

"How do you know?"

"Did you even read what she wrote?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, sue me, I forgot I was talking to fucking _twinArmageddons_ over here."

"The point, KK."

"Of course _you_ wouldn't realise that no one on the same plane of existence as normal would ever go by the name _apocalypseArisen_."

+++

When he woke up, it was to the sounds of the fan still running and a muffled conversation from the next room over. 

Dave knew it was about him. 

There was no way they'd be talking about anything else, not at six-thirty in the morning. Not after he'd literally shown up on their doorstep the previous afternoon, with no warning or explanation. He listened to their voices, trying to make out any of their words, while his eyes struggled to adapt to the bright morning light. 

He'd watched them all evening, safe behind his glasses, never having to really avoid a gaze. It was like an awful kind of game, where neither of them knew exactly what to do or how to approach the problem. The closest either of them had come to asking directly was at dinner, when Dirk had slid a third beer down the table, for Dave, and asked if he was alright.

He'd just popped the cap off the bottle and said it was all cool.

They'd given him the option of where to sleep, but when he'd actually chosen the living room over going upstairs, Jake had made up the couch in the cinema instead and assured him it was more comfortable. 

He reached down and fumbled around for his phone. He'd been ignoring it since late the previous afternoon and hadn't replied to any messages in almost an entire day, not since before he'd left for the airport. The notifications bar was overflowing with information and he started slowly dismissing the unimportant alerts. Facebook birthdays went first, with mailing list emails and anything in his college email account following close behind. He dismissed everything from Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, because he could go through those later. He saved his Instagram feed to look at over breakfast and finally opened Pesterchum to face the music. 

Assorted messages he didn't want to deal with.

Twelve from Rose. 

Thirty from John, half of them YouTube links. 

Two hundred and eighty three from Karkat.

He backed out of the app without even reading any of the messages. 

He put his phone down on his chest, then locked his fingers together and stretched his arms up above his head, yawning as he did. He reached over and switched the fan off, moved his phone into his left hand, and rolled off the edge of the couch until he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

His stomach flipped when he unlatched the door. 

"You're up early, mate," Jake said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. "Glad to see you dressed up for breakfast." 

"You know me," Dave said, through another yawn. "It's like what, seventy degrees out?"

"About that."

"It was about thirty two when I left."

"That explains the getup."

"Shirts are for chumps. Where's Bro?"

"Shaving. There's coffee in the pot, he'll be out for his in a minute," Jake explained. "Go get some sun, it'll wake you right up," he added when Dave stifled another yawn. "I'll let him know you're out back." 

"Thanks," Dave said.

He grabbed a mug from one of the drawers - it had _San Diego Zoo_ emblazoned on the ceramic - and filled it with coffee that smelled strong enough to wake the dead. Taking Jake's advice, he went through to the yard and sat down on the bottom step, curling his toes into the first dry grass he'd seen in months. 

"Hey, kiddo."

Dave tore his gaze away from the back fence when he felt Dirk nudge his shoulder with something cool. He put his coffee down on the grass beside his phone and accepted the bowl, examining the contents closely as his dad sat down next to him. 

"Okay, but what the fuck is this?"

"Some kind of organic yoghurt bullshit from Whole Foods."

"And?"

"And some equally bullshit granola."

"Is this a California thing or a middle-aged dude who can't stomach pop-tarts anymore thing?" Dave asked curiously, slowly mixing the contents of the bowl together. 

"A little of column A, a little of column B. Just eat it, it's good for you," Dirk said, lighting a cigarette. "Yes, I appreciate the fucking irony," he added when he noticed Dave's questioning look.

"I didn't say shit."

"Now's probably as good a time as any to air any shit you did have to say."

Dave was silent for a few minutes as he started working through his breakfast. 

"Okay, did you really sneak fruit into this?"

"Has it killed you yet? No, I didn't think so. Keep eating," Dirk frowned. He took a long drag while Dave spent an inordinately long time chewing a single mouthful. 

"So," Dave said slowly. "Surprise?"

"Cut to the chase, little dude. You know I don't care if you come out here, fuck knows you've only been out a few times, but if shit went down back home I want to know." 

"Would you believe me if I said I just missed you and mom?" Dave mumbled. 

"Yeah, why?" Dirk asked. He put out his cigarette on the side of the concrete step.

"Because I really miss you and mom."

It was easier than he thought it would be to admit that, at eighteen years old, he'd flown himself to the opposite end of the country because he missed his parents. 

It had been harder and harder to get in contact with his mom as her stint in Geneva went on; he got the feeling she was working far more than she let on when they did talk, her contact hours were unrelenting. She'd been guest lecturing once or twice a week at the universities in major cities nearby, and she was working on a new project that she couldn't tell him, or anyone, about. 

When she'd told him that there was no way she'd be able to leave for an uninterrupted three day stretch, he'd said it was all good. She was busy. Even though she hadn't said as much, he knew she was up for a promotion - her workload always increased tenfold when there was a promotion on the line. He understood that there was no way she could get back to New York for a weekend. 

He'd considered flying to Switzerland, however briefly, and the only thing that had stopped him from draining his personal savings for a ticket was the fact it would take a month to get a passport. 

"Dave?"

"What?"

"Is everything actually okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. Like, you'd know by now if I wasn't. Remember what happened last time I wasn't fine? I got roofie'd by a foreign doctor and slept for like two days," Dave said, scraping out the last spoonful of yoghurt from his bowl. "Fine."

"But?"

"But nothing. I just really kind of miss this shit."

"Nutritious breakfasts?"

"What? No, you know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Dirk said, running a hand through the back of Dave's hair. "Too many people in a city, not enough you know, been there, done that."

"Something like that, sure. I just wanted to hang out for a few days."

"Okay, but here's a thought, just for future reference. If you want to come hang out, call in advance so we can organise some shit for you. My schedule's pretty flexible these days but the few things I do plan out are generally non-negotiable," he said. 

Dave closed his eyes and let his head drop down against his chest, leaning forwards with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs. 

"The onset of a fucked up sense of abandonment was pretty sudden," he muttered. "S'all good."

"We'll book you another trip out here before you go home," Dirk said, hand moving to squeeze Dave's shoulder before returning to his own coffee. "Maybe Easter."

"Yeah, maybe," Dave agreed, opening his eyes to swap his empty bowl for his mug. "What's your non-negotiable plan for this morning?"

"Under 16's training then the under 14's game, I should be done by about twelve depending on injuries. I was planning to send you into work with Jake this morning. I'll swing by and pick you up at lunch then we'll come back and do a video, your choice," Dirk explained. He downed the last few mouthfuls of coffee and put his mug back down on the ground between his feet.

"Top Five," Dave suggested. "We'll both tweet about it and reply to the top five top five requests."

"Sounds good to me. You cool to go with Jake for a few hours?"

"Yeah."

"He has to be in by seven thirty today so you'll probably want to go and put some actual clothes on before then," Dirk said, gesturing for Dave to hand over his breakfast dishes; he did, then stood up. "It was eighty three the other day so no hoodies or anything, but more than track shorts."

"Yeah, yeah," Dave said dismissively. "Thanks for the granola."

"Anytime."

"No, I meant thanks, because now I know you're into some fucking kind of filthy California hippy culture and I'm totally over the concept of missing your presence in my daily life," he said, then darted back into the house before Dirk could smear the yoghurt-covered spoon across his calf.

+++

"Come the fuck again."

"I talked to her."

"And?"

"And what?"

" _You_ talked to _her_."

"Yeah."

"Okay, this is too fucking weird, I can't do this," Karkat said, throwing his PS4 controller down onto the couch as he stood up. "You, _Sollux fucking Captor_ , talked to a real, human girl, who as far as we know at this exact point in time isn't a government agent sent to babysit you."

"She's clean," Sollux said. He brought up the menu on _Dying Light_ and swapped his controller for a Red Bull.

"I don't want to know how you figured that out between yesterday and now."

"It took thirty seconds."

"I said I didn't want to know, douchebag," Karkat snapped. "This is it, isn't it? We're actually getting the fucking apocalypse this time and this horseshit is the warning. Fuck, this is so stupid."

"She wants to be Indiana Jones. Why is this even a thing?"

"Because you're you!"

"Wow, rude, KK. Even for you." 

"Look, as something like the only person you really talk to and therefore by default your only friend, I can't do shit to help you out here," Karkat said. 

Sollux watched him pace circles around the living room, staring blankly as Karkat moved from one end of the apartment to the other and back again. 

"What?"

"Nothing. I have to go and actually do my homework so I can pass this class," Karkat said. "Reply to a message once in a while, shitlord. And fucking eat the Chinese when it shows up, seriously, it's like this is the weekend decided to everyone forget they were functioning human beings, and I despise you all for it."

"Everyone?"

"While you're here pulling your minimalist existence garbage, Dave's dropped off the face of the fucking planet and has tweeted exactly once in the last twenty four hours."

"Weird," Sollux shrugged. He took back his controller and exited co-op mode, switching back to _Call of Duty_ since Karkat had already mentioned leaving. "What'd he say?"

"Pandering bullshit to the general assholes that follow him for no obvious reason, something about taking requests."

"You can leave, KK. I'll eat, I'll shower, and I'll even sleep in my bed tonight like a so-called functioning human being," he said. "Later."

"Yeah, yeah," Karkat said dismissively. He jerked the front door open with a little too much force and pulled it closed behind him, struggling to picture Sollux managing to complete three basic functions for a second consecutive day.

He stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the first floor, and took out his cell. There were no important notifications so he dismissed them all at the same time and opened the phone app.

Dave's number rang out.

He scowled, sent another text, then dialled a different number. 

" _Hey_ ," Terezi said when she answered, dragging out the word for what could only be dramatic effect. "What's up, New York?"

"Hey, so two things," he said, nodding to the doorman as he exited the building onto the street. 

"I don't know if I've got time for two things, I mean, I am _very_ busy between all of these highly important things that I'm doing," she said. "But I might be able to squeeze you in."

"You're having a _Law and Order_ marathon and eating donuts," Karkat pointed out. "Your sister tweeted about it this morning."

"Well she's a liar, because we finished _Law and Order_ and now we're watching _Criminal Intent_."

"Those are the same thing, one was just a shitty offshoot of the other. Look, not the point."

" _Definitely_ the point, but who the hell cares, I'm not watching anything!" Terezi cackled. 

He shook his head, trying to hold back a smile as he rounded the corner. 

"Okay, so you haven't heard from Dave since yesterday, have you?" 

"Nope. What stupid thing has he done now?"

"Nothing, he's just gone quiet," Karkat explained. "That's the problem. The asshole is never quiet and then all of a sudden he's dropped off everything, including Instagram. I mean, _John's_ posted more than him in the last twenty four hours and that's saying something."

"Holy shit, that is _terrifying_ ," Terezi mocked. "He's probably sleeping."

"For a whole day?"

"It wouldn't be the first time. So, what's number two?"

"Sollux talked to a girl."

"That _would_ be the first time! Is she hot?"

"Well that's a loaded as fuck question I don't want to answer," Karkat said. 

"Why?"

"Because yeah, Tez, I'm gonna tell you that I think some girl I glimpsed briefly at Starbucks is totally hot."

"But you are one of my eyeballs, Karkat. You do all the seeing for me and I do all the being cool and hot for you, that's why we're a thing, duh," she said seriously.

"Real funny."

"Well it's not my fault the general consensus is that you're not so great to look at. Blame the committee, not the blind girl! But for real, is she hot?"

"I don't know?" Karkat suggested; the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and he was getting increasingly flustered by the question.

"How can you not know? Your best friend likes her so you kind of have to choose where you stand on the whole issue."

"I don't know because I didn't even really see her. Just, I don't know. She's got a lot of hair?"

"That's it?"

"What, you would have picked up on more details in the whole thirty seconds you got a good look at her? Sure, that's a thing that's true," Karkat snapped, dodging cabs as he crossed the street. "Look, I'm going to hang up before this gets even weirder."

"What? None of this was weird. What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. I'll call you later, okay?" 

"Okay," she agreed. "Bye, Karkat."

"Later," he said, then disconnected the call. 

As he turned the corner onto his block, flipping off a second cab driver as he did, he struggled to comprehend why he'd ever thought a phone call with Terezi would actually help the situation.

+++

"So do you want to veto any of this bullshit?" 

"No. Yeah, all of it. Fuck, I don't care."

"You want to give me a straight answer, champ? Yes or no?"

"No. But can I watch it once you've cut it down just in case?"

Dirk glanced away from his computer screen long enough to see that Dave was still lying on the couch, far enough to one end that his knees were draped over the arm; he was on his phone again. 

He reached up and pushed the right side of his headphones completely off his ear.

"Yeah, same as always. Real talk for a minute, Dave?"

"How real?"

"Eight out of ten on the reality scale. Did you tell anyone you were hauling ass to California this weekend?" 

From the corner of his eye, Dirk watched as Dave locked his phone screen and put it down on the couch cushion above his head. 

"I told you and Pops."

"We don't count. You didn't even tell us until we found you on the doorstep like we're some assholes stuck on Privet Drive. Before you got on the plane at JFK, did you tell anyone?"

"Oh, okay, that's what you meant. How was I supposed to know? You weren't exactly clear on the whole thing and left that one wide open for me to walk into like some kind of douchebag."

"So that's a no."

"Definitely a no," Dave admitted, turning his head to look over at Dirk. "Was it a dick move?"

"It's probably not a dick move unless you're blowing off plans."

"I have like three friends."

"Did you have plans with any of them?"

"No."

"So you're probably safe on that front," Dirk said. He made another cut in the footage and dragged his opening slate into place. "You realise that when I post this, people will figure out pretty quickly that you actually had to be in the room for me to film it, right?"

"Yeah, I know." 

"You don't want to give anyone a heads up?"

"Not really," Dave said. "Who's even going to care? It's not like I used Mom's credit card to buy my tickets, or I was planning to hide from Rosie for eternity or anything. Like, being here is a thing I can legitimately do, right? You don't care. I made a decision, admittedly on some kind of shitty dramatic impulse, and I got on a fucking plane. Big deal." 

"I'm opening the video on that bit where you wheeled away from me."

"Which time?"

"When I told you you're my favourite son."

"It was funnier in context." 

"I'll drop that whole section in later then," Dirk said. "The point is, are you sure you're good with this going up tonight?"

"Bro, fuck. It's cool, okay? There's some quality shit in that footage. I don't give a shit when you post it and no one else will either," Dave snapped. 

"So why have you gone over twenty four hours without posting jack shit on any of your own feeds?"

"Lies and slander."

"Bullshit," Dirk challenged. "I'm playing the February dad card," he added, spinning his chair around to face the couch. 

Dave's face remained impassive, but the way he set his shoulders back once he'd twisted into a sitting position was enough to get the message across; he was on guard, annoyed by the direction the conversation had taken. 

Dirk usually wasted his monthly dad card on inane bullshit - January's had been the predictable instruction to eat three different green fruits or vegetables a day for the rest of the month.

He was annoyed with himself for using the pass on such a serious conversation, because forcing Dave to talk before he was ready never ended well. Even though they'd had a conversation about it that morning, Dirk was convinced there was more to the story that Dave was holding back.

The way he was sitting, upright and unmoving, was enough to confirm any lingering suspicions. 

"Why'd you just leave?"

"Because it was easier."

"You don't do easy. You've never done easy. You do dramatic and attention-grabbing. It's kind of your thing, it always has been, and the act of getting on a plane without telling anyone kind of just hammers that point home," Dirk said, watching Dave closely. "Like, I get that whole sudden torrent of bullshit teenage emotion, trust me. I get it. I get that it's weird as shit moving to a new place on your own, I get that we all probably couldn't be further apart right now if we'd tried to deliberately orchestrate it that way. What I don't get is why you, the kid who tells the world everything and his friends even more, didn't mention to anyone that you just needed a break." 

"You didn't have bullshit teenage emotions."

"Yeah, because the late eighties were a pretty rough time for guys like me in general. If I'd thrown so much as an inkling of emotion into the mix, I wouldn't have stood a chance. Shit's different now," Dirk pointed out. "I still skim all your content and half the things you talk about would have been enough to get me beaten into the next decade."

"I'm trying to sort my shit out," Dave said, deliberately averting his gaze to stare out the window instead. "That's why I never said anything. My shit is still so fucked up that is hasn't just hit the fan, it hit the spinning fan and now it's all down the walls and on the floor and it's this clusterfuck of a disgusting situation by virtue of simply existing because people are like, shit, what's going on, then they step in it and track it into the carpet and get other people stepping in it and probably throw up, then the whole disgusting cycle just starts again." 

"Graphic metaphor."

"I know."

"Now deconstruct it," Dirk prompted. 

"If I'm here dumping all my shit on you, the one dude legally obligated to deal with it, I get to go back to New York on Monday having spared everyone the explosion of my bullshit reservoir."

Dirk slid the headphones off from around his neck and tossed them onto his keyboard. He stood up and crossed the room, pausing at the top of the steps long enough to gesture for Dave to follow him downstairs. 

He stopped in the kitchen to pick up two beers from the fridge then kept walking out into the yard. When Dave sat down beside him a minute later, mimicking their positions from breakfast, he handed over one of the bottles with the cap already removed. 

"Ask me about the month I lived in the city," he said. 

Dave turned the bottle in his hands, slowly picking at the corner of the label with his thumbnail. 

"You lived in the city?"

"I don't think a month really counts for living someplace, but for all intents and purposes, sure, I lived there," Dirk said, knocking back a few mouthfuls of beer. 

"Why?"

"Because my shit had hit the proverbial fan. I was seventeen, my only friend had skipped the state, and I was pretty fucked up in general because of the way things were at home. So I got the fucking bus all the way down here and dropped off the radar for a month."

"Yeah?"

"What, you're surprised?"

"Kind of," Dave admitted, finally drinking some of his beer; he pressed the bottle against his forehead to try and keep cool. 

"So I was a lot more impulsive back then, sue me," Dirk shrugged. "It was nineteen eighty-nine and I was seventeen and pissed off at the world. I wasn't in the city to spend a month sightseeing."

"Please don't tell me the fucking details." 

"I never even told Rox the details. The point is that I spent that month breaking something every time I remembered I had to go back upstate to do senior year, including three fingers. Now it's twenty six years later and you're a thing whose idea of running away is to come home?"

"It's not exactly home."

"Two out of three parents counts as home. So, what's the rest of your story?" Dirk asked. 

Dave's finger slipped on condensation and took an inch of the label with it.

"I guess it's all the shit I've been doing for myself? Like, even though I had to sort of just figure most of it out when Mom was out of commission, like cleaning and laundry and shit, I never had to do all the fucking medical bullshit on my own. This new Doc has me jumping through hoops to keep my prescription and all I can do is say sure, let's do that test even though I know what the result will be, or I lose access to the codeine because apparently that's not exactly front-line treatment these days," Dave said. 

"Yeah, but we knew that."

"That's what I said, but what the fuck would I know? Well shit, Doc, none of those other things work, yeah, I'm sure, I did the tests years ago. What? Okay, let's do them again because everyone loves neurologists. Wow, what a fucking surprise. I could tell you the cause right now if you want. No? More tests, because you don't trust the report from an upstate doctor who probably went to the same grad school you did? No, it's fine, it's not like the tests you want to do next week are the kind that leave me fucking incapacitated for the better part of a week. That's cool, I'll definitely keep that appointment."

Dirk watched him closely as he spoke, from the way his brows narrowed to his fingers trying desperately to repair the torn beer label. When he stopped talking, he turned his head, and the expression on his face was one that Dirk hadn't seen in a long time; fear, with a desperate need for reassurance. 

"Which tests are they running?"

"Look, the guy is thorough, I'll give him credit for that, but he wants to run the standard lights and torches and put that shit in that makes your pupils dilate even though it means mine will stay that way for like a week because of how broken they are."

"If he's gotta run the tests, he's gotta run the tests. You know this shit is never as bad as you think it'll be. You've been through this routine dozens of times and every time you're convinced it's going to fuck shit up in ways that shit can't be fucked," Dirk said. 

He swapped his bottle with Dave's when he realised that his entire label was in tatters. 

"But that's the problem, isn't it? What if my pupils decide that holy shit, being this much more dilated than normal is awesome, let's stay like this. It's too hard to go back to how we were on account of those fucked up eye nerves and shit, let's just stay here and convince him he's like two feet from the sun at all times of the day, shit'll be rad."

"Dave," he started.

"What? It'll be fine? Yeah, probably, but I can't shake the fucking feeling that it won't be, and I'm pretty much relying on a career that requires half-decent vision. I can't make a career out of Sweet Bro comics," Dave said, finally taking another swig of beer. 

"Look, if you can't make big bucks off that, then the modern world is a farce and true art is dead," Dirk said, following suit with his own bottle. 

Dave sniggered.

"You know they look like shit because I do them in the dark, right?"

"No way, I thought the one where Hella Jeff skateboarded off the Empire State Building was what got you into hipster art school in the first place," Dirk said. 

"No, but they went apeshit over _Sweet Bro goes to Planet Jupiter_."

They both laughed at that. Dave shook his head and drank another mouthful of the beer, pressing the cold bottle to his cheek afterwards. 

There was only so much he could do, Dirk knew that. Dave was eighteen, in college, and living away from home. He could still pull the strings that needed adjusting, but the more time went on the less influence he had. When it came to medical professionals, however, he could only agree with their opinions and fall back into the role of parent in order to convince his kid to let them do their job. 

"You remember that offer to live out here for a few years? It still stands," Dirk said, as he finished off the last of his beer. "That's a perpetual offer with no expiry date."

"What? No, I want to go back. Like, I _really_ want to go back. I just needed a time-out for my shit to explode, like, be at a safe distance from the volcano and all that shit, don't look at the eclipse or it'll burn your eyes out or whatever," Dave said. He finished off his own beer and put the bottle down beside Dirk's on the bottom step. 

"I'm gonna go back up and finish editing that video. You coming or are you gonna sit out here and let your fragile New York winter skin build up some third degree burns?" Dirk asked as he stood up, taking the bottles with him. 

"Yeah, give me a minute."

"Close the door when you're ready," he said, walking back over to put the bottles down on the edge of the kitchen sink. Before he went out into the hallway, he glanced back over to see Dave on his phone, again, typing furiously.

There was a text waiting for him when he got back upstairs.

GT: Why is your dave sending me sos *dad is being weird again* texts?

+++

"Fuck."

Dave had been put on the plane by both Dirk and Jake the night before. They'd driven out to the airport early in Jake's Prius, leaving them with more than enough time to stop for Jack in the Box once Dave had checked in. He'd said goodbye outside security, hugging each of them for more time than was probably necessary. 

Dirk had only let him go after even longer. 

The flight had been tedious. He'd slept on and off for three hours, dozing with his head up against the window and his knees cramped behind the seat in front; he'd definitely grown since Christmas. 

The gum he'd been chewing since descent had begun went into the garbage as he waited in line for a coffee, something to keep him warm beneath the five layers he was wearing to fight off what was set to be one of the coldest mornings the city had seen that season.

He walked out through the security gates, headphones clamped down over his ears and Starbucks in hand, hoping to blend in enough with the crowd heading back across the river that he could make the trip undisturbed. 

He would have made it all the way back to his building if Karkat hadn't been waiting for him.

"What a fuckin' coincidence, man," he said casually, taking a large swig of his coffee as Karkat fell into step beside him. "And at six thirty in the god damn morning at that."

"You think I'm here voluntarily?" Karkat snapped, eyeing the takeout cup in Dave's hand. 

"Hang on, I think I need to fly back to California to have words with my dad," Dave said. When he tried to turn around, Karkat grabbed his elbow and dragged him back in the right direction. 

"Not fucking today."

"So," Dave said as they stepped onto an escalator, breaking the silence that had settled on the way out of the terminal. "How'd you find out?"

"I saw the video."

"You subscribe to his channel? That's fuckin' tragic."

"No, what's tragic is that you put _The Breakfast Club_ as number two in your Top Five Brat Pack movies. Number two? What the fuck, Dave? What the fuck?" 

Dave snorted. 

"Then you're here now because?"

"He Pestered me and asked me to be," Karkat said. 

"That's it?"

"That, and you missed the biggest fucking plot twist this side of paradox space while you were inexplicably in California for three days."

"How big?"

"Sollux talked to a girl."

"Okay, my plane crashed, right? Man, that's the real fucking tragedy, isn't it? I'm dead and my subconscious chose you to be the asshole to fill me in. What the hell, brain? I always thought Rose was always the obvious choice for this role, it's exactly her kind of fucked up thing," Dave said, taking out his Metrocard when they got to the subway station. "You're not fucking with me," he added when he didn't get an immediate response.

"Unfortunately not. But I think it says a lot that your reaction was to assume you'd dropped dead verses Terezi asking if the girl was hot," Karkat said, following Dave through to the platform. "I don't know, before you ask. I hardly saw her."

"Dude, I wasn't going to ask," Dave said, frowning. He took another mouthful of his coffee then held the cup out. "Double shot double caramel. Sorry."

"For passing off your half finished Starbucks scraps?" Karkat asked. 

He took the cup regardless. 

"That too. We cool?"

"Yeah. But not about that list, god fucking damn, Lalonde, I can't believe how wrong your list was. You didn't even have _Sixteen Candles_ on there, what the fuck?"

Karkat kept talking but Dave just let him go, standing quietly as they waited for the train to pull up to take them back into New York City.

"And _St. Elmo's Fire_ was in the wrong place!"

Dave just grinned.


	4. [I17]: Dr. English's Interns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we go through a work day with Jake. 
> 
> (the interns are largely irrelevant)

**February, 2015**

"Alright, so who was it that wrote down yesterday all the things we had to do today?"

It was an inexplicable privilege among students from across the state to be awarded a three month internship with Dr. Jake English.

Since mid-2013, the travel component of his job had been slashed by over three quarters; at his request, someone else had taken over those duties in order for him to be based at the zoo full-time. He took on more general keeping duties, helping out where he could, in addition to being an education coordinator of sorts - he ran a few classes a week at the Institute, still travelled to give college talks, and took on new interns four times a year. 

By February, he had a team of three students working with him. One, a girl completing her Masters degree, was set to stay on for the remainder of the year as he supervised her research. There was a college Junior who had fought his way in through perseverance and applying for every round since the internships had started. Finally, the youngest was a girl in her Senior year of High School, for whom Jake had bent the rules after finding out her only chance at college was through a scholarship. 

"Okay then, so as it turns out none of you are here yet," Jake said to the empty office, frowning when he realised it was still early. "Because why would you be, it's six in the morning," he muttered, tossing the teabag from his mug into the sink. "Why am I here so early? No one knows. It really is just a mystery for the ages," he added, returning the milk to the kitchenette fridge before wandering over to his office. "Anyone?" 

Still no reply. 

He sipped cautiously on the hot tea as his computer loaded. If there was no one around in the building, it meant that there was no one to prevent him from leaving. While he waited for the machine to load the rostering program, he scribbled out a note to leave behind.

Salutations interns!!   
Instructions for today are as follows. Ashley i need to see your literature review by THIS AFTERNOON. Chris i got you a position feeding penguins at ten and giraffes at three. Emily do your bloody math homework as soon as you get in or you cant go and help chris with the penguins. Also due to the infinite wisdom of the administration i was left unsupervised this morning so inevitably i must go and get into far too much mischief for a man my age. First one to find me gets to choose where i go on the lunch collection mission!   
-Dr english

+++

"Can we get Del Taco today?"

Jake beamed when he saw Emily standing outside the cage he was in. It was already well after twelve and the interns had taken longer than usual to track him down. He knew that the promise of free food was enough to keep them on their toes but he was notoriously difficult to find when he was actively playing the game; he'd spent the morning continually moving through the zoo to throw them off his trail.

He'd ended up about as far from the Administration building as he could get.

"I don't see why not," he replied. "Watch this," he added. "And wait right there, I'll be out in a jiffy!" 

He took a few steps back then turned around so he could keep an eye on the exit. He reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a thawed rat, his eyes scanning the tree branches for the Harpy Eagle's next movement. She looked at him curiously, fully aware of the meal in his hand. 

He threw the rat high up in the air and ducked out of the cage as the eagle swooped, leaving her to her lunch. 

"That's how _not_ to do it, right?" Emily asked when Jake appeared on the guest side of the fence, grinning widely. 

"Well it worked, didn't it? But correct. Don't tell her keeper," he said. "Shall we?" 

Jake gestured down the hill, towards the main road where they could hitch a ride on a tour bus to avoid the long walk back to administration. 

"I finished my math homework," she offered. "Most of it. I mean, I did all the sections I could but the last few were just totally impossible so I'll ask in class tomorrow."

"Well done, you," Jake said proudly. "How was your weekend then?"

"Good. Okay, I guess. I watched three seasons of _Gossip Girl_ ," Emily shrugged. "What about you? Chris said you got stuck babysitting the whole time."

"In a manner of speaking," he laughed. "Dave, that's my Dirk's basket case of a son, turned up unexpectedly on Friday so we had to entertain him for a few days. I say that, but he's just going through a bit of a rough patch as near as we can guess and wanted to see some familiar faces."

"Wait, so how old is he?" 

"About your age, or a little older. He's a good lad, he's just got a busy mind and too big of a heart when it comes to his family, neither of which do him any favours these days. Oh, don't let me forget to write that letter for you, the reference one. Blast it, I knew there was something else," Jake said, waving down the tour bus as it passed. 

"I don't need it for a few weeks," she said, following him up onto the bus. There were no seats left so they stood in the doorway and held on to whatever they could to help balance. 

"I'll do it this afternoon or it'll become one of those awful tasks that drags on for an eternity," he said. "But yes, so in one sense I did a little bit of babysitting but on the other hand, it was absolutely smashing to see him again."

"So he's your step-son, right? But you never really see him?"

"Of sorts but not quite, exactly," Jake explained. "I don't think I'd seen him in over a year before this weekend, since he lives on the East Coast and goes to college there now. This country is so bloody large that it's impossible to organise visits more often. I think Dirk misses him terribly though, more than he'd say, you know? He's going to come out and stay with us for a few weeks over the summer which will be nice for the pair of them."

"Cool. We're still getting Del Taco, right?"

+++

"Right, so as I was saying earlier," Jake started, watching as his interns started to split the assorted tacos between them. 

"You just got here," Ashley pointed out as she unwrapped her lunch. 

"As I was saying _much_ earlier this morning, I can't for the life of me recall which one of you jotted down the list of things we had to get done today," he said, silencing her with a raised eyebrow as he leant back against the kitchenette counter top. "And I'd be willing to take a jolly good stab in the dark and say that none of you can recall that information either. Here's our plan of action," Jake went on, pausing long enough to take a sip of his tea. "Provided that everyone has completed their morning duties, I don't want to see any of you for at least three hours."

"Why?" Chris asked, through a mouthful of burrito. 

"Because you've all got afternoon duties that involve leaving me alone long enough to finish off a few things," Jake said. "I can assure you, I'd much rather be out there making a nuisance of myself than cooped up in here fighting with my darn computer."

He raised his mug again and waited patiently for them all to finish their Del Taco. He'd never been able to understand why his internships generated so many applications for each round; surely there was more to it than the free bi-weekly lunches. 

Employers seemed to leap at the opportunity to hire anyone who had interned for Dr. English during their time at college. The community at large understood that he didn't take them on just for show. Some of his practices, while entirely unorthodox, were highly effective in training the students for what to expect down the line. He never gave them time to prepare for what was coming next. Some days, they were busied exclusively by paperwork. On others, he gave them two tasks at a time, located at opposite ends of the park, and told them that the challenge was in figuring out how to best prioritise the options. They volunteered with the various cafes, helped out during routine medical exams, gave tours, and left their positions having experienced more than some of the full-time employees. 

Their main priority, however, was to always assist in keeping Jake safe from himself. 

No single intern had ever been able to avoid the task of convincing him that the cup of tea he was trying to drink had been sitting abandoned on his desk for three days. 

"So what are we doing?" Emily asked. 

"Haven't the foggiest. Go make yourselves useful," Jake shrugged. "And I'm deathly serious about leaving me to be for the next three hours. If you need anything, find someone else. I only want to see you back here if you're missing a limb," he said, pushing off from the counter to start heading over to his office. " _Deathly_ serious."

He closed the door behind him and sat down at his desk, precariously balancing his tea on top of a pile of still as-yet ungraded papers for students at the Institute. As much as he did need the time to finish off a few important things, sending his interns out into the zoo with no obvious instruction was a test in itself. While he waited for his computer to start up, he watched them through the open blinds that covered the glass walls of the office. 

It took eight minutes for them to collectively finish their lunch and get moving. As they packed up their garbage and started off towards the elevator, Jake took out his phone and hit the first number on his speed dial. 

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How's work?"

"Nothing too exciting to report, I've got an afternoon of absolutely _riveting_ paperwork ahead," he explained, searching through his unread emails to locate Ashley's literature review. "Editing and writing reference letters and all that jazz. You?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just spent fifty six minutes in the shower?"

"I would."

"I just spent fifty six minutes in the shower."

"Well, a full hour would just be entirely ridiculous," Jake scoffed. "Sorry I missed you this morning."

"You're fine. I didn't get up until nine anyway. I'm going in for the big grocery run this afternoon, you want anything specific?"

"Not that I can think of. I'll text you if that changes."

"Okay. Anything important before I go?"

"No, nothing important. I just wanted to say hello. Something to help me through all this nonsense busywork, you know?"

"Glad to help. See you at what, about five?"

"Better make it six," Jake sighed. "Love you."

"You too."

He ended the call and tossed his phone down, narrowly missing the stack of papers propping up his tea. 

It took far longer than it should have to edit the Literature Review. He knew Ashley wasn't going to be impressed by the amount of annotations he'd left for her to correct, but her perspective shifted partway through; he couldn't blame her, the reviews were tedious to write at the best of times and for a first effort it wasn't terrible, but it did need a lot of work before he'd clear it for publication in her thesis. 

He glanced up at the clock. It was ten past three. 

Jake picked up his phone again.

GT: I have changed my mind and am now leaving at five regardless and then going to the range after we eat.  
GT: You are most welcome to join me but i am very much not in the mood for your usual attempts at diversion tactics!  
TT: Fine by me. What if I wanted to be an active participant?  
GT: I just told you that i am *not* in the mood for your particular brand of malarkey this evening.  
TT: I'm not joking. I can shoot.  
GT: Poorly!  
TT: Do you want me to stay home?  
GT: Undecided at this point in time.   
TT: Do you want the regular bacon or the double smoked?  
GT: Double. I better get this letter of recommendation done so i can leave on time.  
TT: The offer's there, either way. We both know I look incredible with a loaded pistol.  
GT: I said no diversionary tactics strider!  
TT: See you in a few hours, English.

He had just over an hour and a half to write a letter that would help his youngest ever intern get into college. It would have to be a draft, he could finish it in the morning before anyone else got in - there was no point in doing a poor effort when he'd only taken Emily on because she had no chance of graduating college without scholarship help from day one.

By four thirty, he still wasn't done with the letter. He had too much to say and not enough space to say it. By the time he'd worked out how to condense his thoughts, the interns were back. 

He gestured for them all to enter the office with his left hand, his right still fidgeting with the squirrel skull on his desk. 

"How'd you go then?" Jake asked. 

"Great. That was three hours, right?"

"Three and a half. You were granted entry, weren't you?"

"Right, okay," Chris said, slouching against the doorframe. "What now?"

"Did you all get your work hours signed off by whoever was supervising you this afternoon?"

He watched as they all nodded, still pushing the skull back and forth with his index finger. 

"Is there anything else you need done today?" Ashley asked. 

"No. No, nothing that immediately springs to mind. Go home, I'll see all of you here at eight o'clock tomorrow. Don't be late, please, we're doing rounds. Dismissed," he said, shooing them all back out the door. 

He stood and followed a few steps behind the interns, picking up his mug to finish the tea before he put it in the dishwasher to be cleaned overnight. "Oh, sweet Jesus Kringlefucking Christ, that's been sitting out for hours," he swore, immediately spitting the mouthful of room temperature tea back into the cup.

+++

The routine of coming home was familiar and instinctive. He hung his keys on the hook behind the front door and kicked his boots off half a step later; when Dirk had moved in, he'd insisted on work boots being left at the door, unable to cope with the knowledge of what they'd otherwise end up tracking through the house. 

Jake emptied his pockets onto the hall stand and walked through the house, glancing into each room he passed until he got to the kitchen. He trudged over to the counter and dropped his forehead against the back of Dirk's neck, resting there for a few comfortable moments before he moved away to collect a pack of jaffa cakes from the cupboard. 

Two biscuits and half a mug of tea later, he broke the silence. 

"This afternoon felt long," he said, reaching across the table for another biscuit. 

"Paperwork haze?"

"Very much so."

"Have a beer," Dirk suggested. "Local microbrew is fucking amazing with a side of jaffa cakes, everyone knows that." 

"Don't be daft. I can't shoot inebriated."

"You can't shoot tired, either. We'll stay in tonight and head up to the range tomorrow instead. Have a beer." 

"And do what instead?" Jake asked, pushing his chair out from the table to cross back over to the fridge. 

"It's been over a week since we last watched _Guardians of the Galaxy_ ," Dirk shrugged. "We'll do that and pizza."

"Alright," Jake agreed with a sigh, taking two bottles from the middle shelf. "Star-Lord tonight, shooting tomorrow, and another four hours of paperwork in between."

"Sounds great to me," Dirk said, standing up to follow Jake through to the cinema. 

"Did you know," Jake said as he sat down and picked up the remote. "Somehow you managed to get the wrong bacon even though I was texting you while you were standing in front of the bacon." 

When Dirk didn't reply, Jake smiled and passed him the second beer. 

"I'll go back tomorrow," Dirk said a few minutes later, over the opening scene. 

Jake scowled and shushed him; it didn't matter how long or tedious a day had been, movie time was always quiet time.


	5. [A5.2A3]: full truth or half truth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the New York crew get visitors.

**March, 2015**

"Ow! What the hell are you doing, Jesus!"

Dave instinctively saved his work before he swivelled his chair and hurled his tablet pen at whoever was standing behind him. It had to be Karkat. He knew it was Karkat, because no one else ever just waltzed into his dorm room like they owned the place and ripped his headset off. The knowledge of who had almost torn his ears off only made him want to throw something else as well, but the only option on such short notice was his mouse, and that was far more likely to shatter on impact than the digital pen. 

"What am I doing? What are you doing still sitting here! It's after eleven!"

"Bullshit it is, I got up at fucking seven this morning," Dave snapped, spinning his chair back around. "Find my pen, douche." 

"It's eleven-oh-six. You were supposed to be halfway across the city like an hour ago!" Karkat shouted. "Hurry up!"

"Dude, fucking chill. We've got plenty of time."

"Two hours is _not_ plenty of time, shitlord!"

Dave felt the pen bounce off his shoulder and watched it roll under his desk. He pushed his chair back and picked the stylus up, threw it onto his keyboard, and finally checked his phone. 

"Oh shit, it's after eleven," he mused aloud, much to Karkat's irritation. "I'm going, I'm going," he added. 

"How did you not know what time it was? You're all about being on time, it's one of the few things that makes you at all tolerable as a person," Karkat asked. He was standing by the front door, out of the way, so Dave had no excuse to drag out their departure any longer than was absolutely necessary. 

"Full truth or half truth?" Dave asked, pulling a t-shirt on before he ducked into the bathroom to swap his track pants for jeans. "Half truth is faster."

"Full truth."

"Hang on," he said, kicking the door fully closed so he could actually use the bathroom while he was in there. He flushed, zipped his fly, then washed his hands before exiting the cramped room. "Okay, the full truth is that I've been sitting there since about seven-oh-three working on a commission of someone's shitty MLP self-insert listening to _Uptown Funk_ on repeat for what was apparently four hours."

"What was the half truth?" Karkat asked.

"I was going to leave out the _Uptown Funk_ part. What's it like outside?" 

"Overcast. It's supposed to stay that way."

"Great," Dave said, sliding his red-tinted Aviators into place; he stowed his prescription lenses safely in his coat pocket and threw it back onto his bed. He dragged a beanie down over his hair, zipped up his hoodie, then stared blankly at Karkat as he pocketed his phone and wallet. 

"I can't leave if you're in the way."

"You don't even have your fucking boots on yet."

"Because you're standing in front of them."

Karkat scowled and kicked the waterproof boots across the floor. 

"Thanks, man," Dave said, picking up his left shoe first. 

Admittedly, it was his fault for not remembering to look at the time, but because Karkat was already so annoyed, he took his time lacing his boots. With one foot propped up on the edge of his desk chair while he tightened the laces, he spent far too long arranging the cuff of his jeans to sit just right at his ankle. 

Karkat made a loud, annoyed clicking sound when Dave swapped to the other foot. 

"Hurry the fuck up, you sack of shit!"

"Okay, okay, I'm done," Dave said, scooping up his coat and keys. "See? All good. Let's go." 

"Fucking _finally_ ," Karkat snapped, jerking the door open. He got three steps out into the hall before he stopped and turned back, only to find that Dave hadn't moved and was instead looking at something on his phone. "What are you doing now?"

"I took a selfie but it's way too dark in here so I'm fucking around with the lighting and filters and shit," Dave said. "It's a totally sweet photo, I'm not deleting it, but god damn, my room is a dark, dark place." 

That was an understatement. 

The day after he'd settled into his dorm, Dave had removed the light bulb from the ceiling fixture and replaced it with a bedside lamp fitted with a smart bulb that he could adjust from his phone. Between that and the minimal light provided by his monitor, combined with the specially installed blackout blinds covering his window, the room was as comfortable for him as possible. 

It did make decent selfies a near impossibility, though.

"Do it on the subway, let's go!" Karkat yelled. 

Dave scoffed and jammed his phone into his coat pocket, swapping it for his keys. Despite all his deliberate bullshit, he had ultimately promised Karkat they'd be early and to prevent that from happening would be a jerk move. 

He shoved Karkat out of the way to lock his door, zipped his keys into his pocket, and started off down the hall. 

"You realise there's still like two hours to go, right?" Dave said, when they were in the elevator. "Shit's cool, Vantas. Keep your shit unflipped. And fuck off, I'm the one saying to keep your shit unflipped? Me? Dave Lalonde, telling someone to unflip their shit? Fucking incredible, bro."

"Dave Lalonde's shitfits were always more entertaining than Dave Strider's," Karkat said flippantly. "Too bad they're both fucking morons."

"Ouch. Harsh." 

"If we're late because of you, I'm duct taping the hair off your fucking legs next time you fall asleep."

+++

"So how're you gonna go about this, baby sis? The big dramatic entrance or what?"

"Oh _no_ , I didn't even think about that! What if he doesn't like me, Tules? What then?"

"Please tell me you're fucking with me."

"Of course I'm fucking with you, everyone loves me," Terezi cackled. 

She gripped Latula's arm even more tightly than before when she felt someone brush past her on her left. Her head turned to scowl at whoever it was, but she couldn't tell where any of the people were in the crowd. 

Gone were the days of being able to make out details as fine as individual letters. 

In the right lighting she could still differentiate colours, but the objects they represented were less and less defined every day. It had taken even Latula, whose job it was to act as her full-time carer, well over two years to realise that what little vision she'd once had was almost entirely gone. 

"We're almost there, you gotta tell me how we're doing this," Latula said, a few steps later. "Rezi?"

"I don't _know_ ," Terezi whined dramatically. "Just walk us out there and find them!"

"And then?"

"And then we go sightseeing."

"Do you really think they'll fall for that one?"

"Yes," she said confidently. "They will absolutely fall for it and it will be the greatest thing I've ever done in my life."

"I got a lock on the targets, little sister," Latula said, steering them off to the side of the walkway to avoid the people rushing to make their connections. "End of this hall, standing like idiots, one blonde and one angry bundle of nerves."

"That's them!" Terezi gasped mockingly. "Do I look okay?"

"You're wearing that frumpy eighties cardigan of Mom's that is the literal definition of ugly."

"Excellent!" 

"Probably ten paces, straight ahead. He looks like he's about to shit himself. Plan?" Latula asked, starting to work Terezi's arm free from her own. 

"No plan. He's probably got a plan." 

It turned out the Karkat did have a plan, and that plan was to immediately envelop her in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her in a way that left her no space to return the gesture. 

She shifted, running a hand over his shoulders to get a sense of perspective. He was taller than her, but not by as much as she'd been expecting - half a head, maybe a little more. She ran her fingers over his face, trying to feel out as many details as possible. He'd shaved recently, probably that morning, but his eyebrows were thick and furrowed. His cheeks were warm, warmer than they should have been, but he was inexplicably wearing his coat inside.

She grinned widely, then gently slapped his cheek.

"You feel like a dork."

"Hi," he replied, reaching up to guide her hands away from his face. 

She swatted him away and put her fingers back on his cheeks, feeling her way across his nose and ears, up into his hair, then back again. She ran one hand down the front of his jacket then finally around his waist, pulling him back into another hug. 

"Yeah, you definitely feel like a dork," she said into the collar of his t-shirt. 

"Are you actively trying to ruin this?"

"Your face ruined it already."

"Oh my God," Karkat said, running his hands across her upper back. "You're actively trying to fuck with me already."

She darted back out of the hug when she heard a loud scoff from somewhere to her right. Her head snapped towards the source of the sound and she frowned in what she hoped was the right direction. 

She turned, hands on her hips and lips pursed, staring at the place she was fairly certain Dave was standing; if she'd been too wrong, Latula would have corrected her already. She took a step forward and started to mimic her earlier actions, moving to feel out his features, but she ended up connecting with his chest rather than his face. 

"Whoa, Rez, I would've thought you'd ask before you groped at my tits in public like that, hot damn," Dave sniggered. "Did you see that, Vantas? Dude, jealous or what?"

Terezi felt her way up from there, her fingers moving up the side of his neck until she found his cheek, then slapped him harder than she probably should have in an airport. 

"You suck," she said. "Can you hunch over or something?"

Dave sighed, but he complied and slouched even further. 

"Hang on," he said. "Okay, now feel up my face to your filthy little heart's content." 

"What did you do?"

"Took off my shades, so hurry up." 

"Why?" Terezi asked, trying to figure out exactly how tall Dave was. Taller than Karkat, definitely, and at least a head taller than she was. His face was smooth and his eyes were closed as her fingers brushed over his eyebrows and looped back down to his shoulders. 

"I know it means jack shit to you, but airports always have shitty fluorescent tube lighting and the one two up from here is misfiring and flickering all over the fucking place," Dave said. "You done?"

"Yeah," she said. "He's a dork and you're ugly." 

"So," Karkat said, clearing his throat. "You want to maybe get out of this airport?"

"I need to get a fucking coffee," Dave pitched in, setting his glasses back in place. "Hey, did you bring me those Timbits?"

"Yeah, but I ate them all for breakfast," Terezi laughed. "There's just an empty box in Tula's bag."

"Bullshit you ate them all," he said defensively. " _Bullshit_."

"Relax, blondie, I'm your designated Canadian Timbit supplier, got 'em in the pack," Latula said, linking her arm with Terezi's once again. "You can have 'em in the taxi." 

"Wow, withholding donuts. Is she serious?" Dave asked. He started following Karkat back through the terminal, with Terezi and Latula following a few steps behind. 

"Yeah," Terezi said. "You sound pretty far away," she added.

"Yeah, we're walking ahead of you."

"Well that explains it," she said. "Can we talk in the taxi so I can concentrate on not walking into anything?"

"Yeah, we got like a week," Dave said. "Just give me the fucking Timbits, Pyrope the First."

"Can it, coolkid," Latula said. "Escalators coming up, Rezi." 

Terezi let out a shriek of laughter when they all stepped onto the escalator. With Latula beside her, still tightly holding onto her arm, and the boys two steps ahead, it felt like she was being flanked by some sort of protection squad; when she told them they were all obviously her knights in shining armour, she heard Karkat groan and Dave snicker, while Latula just bumped her hip to indicate they were about to step off the escalator. 

She stumbled a little on the first step, but only because she was trying to listen in on what the boys were talking about instead of focusing on walking. 

"Are you guys arguing? Lame!" Terezi exclaimed, as they finally left the terminal and stepped out into the cool breeze. "What are you arguing about?"

"Who has to sit where in the cab," Dave said, followed by a sound of irritation; she guessed that Karkat had probably hit him in the arm. "Statistically, it's one of us that going to get stuck in the front, right? Except he's from around here and thinks that's embarrassing as fuck, but because I'm not from around here so I have no way to know if the dude's trying to rip us off. Catch-fucking-twenty two."

"I'll do it," she offered. "Since you're both giant babies and obviously need another five hours to wrap up this argument."

"No way," Karkat said. "I'm not subjecting some poor sucker of a cab driver to you."

"Oh my _God_ ," Terezi grinned, reaching into her pocket and fishing out a Canadian dollar. "Dave's heads, because his is so big."

"I'll allow it," Dave shrugged. 

She let Latula guide her off to the side of the walkway, then flipped the coin, snatched it out of the air, and pressed it against the back of her other hand. 

"What's the result?" 

"Tails," Latula supplied. 

"So it's Karkat's call!" 

"Dave can have the front so he gets some private time with his donuts," Karkat said, finally hailing one of the cabs for the four of them. "Where's your hotel?"

She stood on the curb as he gave the driver the Midtown address while Latula packed their suitcase and backpacks into the trunk. She heard car doors opening and closing all around her, trying to focus on the dark flash of yellow that had to be the cab itself. Latula climbed in first and shuffled across the back seat and she followed, feeling out the door frame so she didn't hit her head. Karkat slid in last and pulled the door closed behind him. 

There were a few moments of chaos as the cab started moving. Latula reached over to the front and handed Dave the box of Timbits, which Terezi could only assume - correctly - that he Instagrammed before eating any.

To her right, she felt her folding cane stowed safely between her thigh and Latula's, in case she wanted it as soon as they were out of the cab again; they both knew that while she was more than confident at home, she hadn't been anywhere entirely unfamiliar in a long time. She elbowed her sister in the ribs, but when Latula returned the gesture and caused her to jump back, she remembered suddenly that Karkat was sitting to her left. 

"Hey, if you kids don't pipe down back there no one gets any Dave Strider special order frappuccinos courtesy of the Dave Strider Spring Break Commissions fund."

"Wasn't your spring break over like a week ago?"

"Yeah, that's why the fund is overflowing with hardcore levels of cash money, I spent the whole week doing commissions and sleeping," Dave said. "Any and all substitutions or alterations provided we pick a Starbucks I don't go to on a daily basis."

"So that eliminates like every store in Lower Manhattan, right?" Terezi asked. 

"Yeah, yeah, joke all you want," he said, through a mouthful of donut. "So for real, what are we doing after we dump your shit?"

"Tourist shit," Terezi said quickly. "Everything."

"What, like Times Square?"

"Yeah, exactly," she confirmed. "That's the whole point."

"Are you hungry?" Karkat asked. 

She didn't miss the slight catch in his throat when he spoke. 

" _Maybe_ ," she said. "Maybe."

"Pizza?" 

"I dunno, is the pizza any good here?" 

"She's fucking with you," Dave interjected.

"Thank you, Dave, but let me ruin my own punchlines next time," she said. "I am definitely kind of hungry and wouldn't say no."

"I know a place," Karkat said.

Terezi turned her head to grin at him, pressing her elbow up against his to work out what he was doing with his hand. When she realised it was resting on his knee, only inches from hers, she reached over and tapped his knuckles with hers.

He took the hint, linking his fingers with hers; they stayed like that for the entire trip to the hotel. 

"You guys wait here," Latula said, as she helped Terezi to find the elevator. "We'll be back in ten." 

"Five, probably," Terezi suggested. 

"Defs ten, Pyrope Junior." 

"Okay, okay, ten minutes," she agreed, letting Latula drag her into the elevator by her elbow. 

She waved in the general direction she'd come from, hoping that the boys were still sitting where she'd left them a minute earlier. 

"So?" Latula asked as soon as the doors closed on them.

"So what?"

"So what do you think?" 

"What do you mean what do I think? I think he's about to shit himself but who wouldn't? I'm just that great, for real," Terezi said. "But oh my God, did you know Dave was some kind of giant?" 

"He's white," Latula shrugged, walking them down the hall to find their room once the elevator let them off at the right floor. "It's a white boy thing."

"Do we not have white boys in Toronto?"

"How the heck should I know, they're in jackets and scarves all year round."

"Yeah, that joke never gets old," Terezi said sarcastically, leaning against the wall while her sister struggled with the door.

"Okay," Latula said. Her voice disappeared for a moment as she stepped into the room to drop the suitcase and her backpack, before coming back to the doorway. "So, front door, cupboard to the right, bathroom on the left, beds just past that on the same side."

"Is the carpet ugly?"

"Hellaciously ugly."

"Excellent," Terezi said, walking slowly into the room, dragging her left hand along the wall. She ducked into the bathroom then back out into the main area to map the layout of the room. "Nice view or what?"

"Yeah, it's alright," Latula said. "Okay, but real talk," she added. 

Terezi flopped down backwards onto the bed closest to the bathroom. 

"About what?" 

She tipped her head in Latula's direction, even though she had no idea exactly where she was standing.

"Why didn't you go straight in and kiss him? Like, I thought that was pretty much the entire point of coming down here."

"I think he would have died of embarrassment if I had," Terezi said truthfully. "You know what he's like! He's exactly like a giant dork and it would have been the worst thing in the world and he'd never let me forget it."

"That's kind of like the ultimate goal."

"No, you don't get it. He'd never let me forget in a bad way. I'd have to listen to him complain for the next forever about how tacky and not at all romantic or mushy it was, because I am over nine thousand percent sure that he's going to try and make it all romantic and mushy."

"You kids are huge fucking nerds," Latula laughed. "Do you want some more time up here or do you just want to go?"

"Can you help me separate the crap from the useful stuff in my backpack?" Terezi asked. "And I want the useful stuff back in the bag and all the crap left here."

"Crap in the bag and the useful stuff out the window, got it."

+++

He'd blown it. He knew he'd blown it, Terezi knew he'd blown it, every idiot who'd been passing through LaGuardia earlier that day knew he'd blown it. 

He should have kissed her. 

There was no better time, place, or opportunity. They'd been dating, technically, for years, and kissing her as soon as he saw her in person would have put every single movie he'd ever seen to shame. 

But he'd stopped at a hug, like he was twelve years old, and had spent the entire afternoon trying to make up for the oversight. 

She would never let him forget that he'd left it at a hug. 

It had taken a reasonable amount of persuasion, but Latula had agreed to hang back and let him guide Terezi for a few hours. Admittedly, those few hours were exclusively spent standing in line to get up to the Empire State Building observation decks, but he knew it was a pretty big deal to both of the Pyrope girls. 

When a small family had hurried into the queue behind him and Terezi, Dave had been the one to just shrug and hold Latula back from saying anything.

He made a mental note to say thanks for that one later on, then promptly changed the reminder when he realised that Dave was narrating the entire trip to his Twitter feed, complete with queue selfies and a photo of Latula trying to grab a pigeon. 

They walked back through Times Square and followed Broadway for another few blocks before ducking down into the subway station on 50th. 

They couldn't see much point in sitting down to eat anywhere, despite the fact that lunch had only been at the Panera across the street from the Empire State. Karkat wasn't prepared to explain the entire situation to either of his sleep-deprived parents, and Dave's place was far too small. On a whim, Karkat had called Sollux, told him to put some pants on, and ordered pizzas to be delivered at seven thirty. 

They were just lucky that Sollux's dad had so little faith in his kids that he paid a cleaner to drop by every Saturday morning. 

"Hey, it's us, asshole," Karkat said, knocking loudly when they stopped outside the apartment.

"What's so urgent, fuck," Sollux countered, swinging the door open a minute later. "The pizza isn't here yet."

"It's only six thirty."

"Whatever. You'll have to find something to do, the TV's taken," he went on.

Karkat closed the door behind himself. When he noticed Latula silently waving in his direction, he cocked an eyebrow and watched her gesture towards Terezi, who was already sitting down on one end of the couch. 

He sat.

"So you're the super genius, right?" Latula asked. 

"That's nicer than what the FBI call me," Sollux said. "Soda's in the fridge. I'll be back."

"Packing it in already?" Dave asked. He'd claimed an armchair off to the far side of the living room and was already sprawled over it, his legs up over one arm with his boots unlaced and ready to kick off. 

"I'm going for a piss," Sollux said. "I was serious about the TV. Don't even try."

Karkat watched over the back of the couch as he left the room, but quickly turned his attention back to Terezi when she took his hand. 

"Who's using the TV?" Terezi asked, pulling her knees up and resting her feet on the edge of the couch.

"His brother. He probably won't move for another six hours," Karkat explained, watching as Mituna didn't even look up from _Assassin's Creed Unity_. He let Terezi guide his hand up around her shoulders so she could lean in against him. "Are you sure?"

"Please," she scoffed. 

"I mean don't try because he's been fucking quiet for hours," Sollux clarified when he returned, laptop in tow. He set it down on the kitchen counter and dragged a stool around so he could sit and face everyone else. 

"You realise he's obviously some kind of adult, right?" Latula asked, hazarding a few steps closer to Mituna. 

"Sure, technically. But he's also got like six shades of brain damage so we can't say how much is that and how much is that he was doomed to be a jerk regardless," Sollux said.

Latula moved closer again. 

She almost jumped back, startled, when Mituna's head suddenly snapped around from the TV and stared at her.

"Shit, sorry," she said, starting to back away. 

"Nice tits," he said, a wide grin crossing his face. "You can stay," he added, closely eyeing her worn-out Tony Hawk shirt. 

"Okay, but I'm going to face backwards so I can talk to everyone," Latula said. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, right beside Mituna but turned away from the TV.

"I don't care. You're fucking pretty."

"Thanks," she said. "So how long until we get to eat? Because I'm going to devour an entire pizza and you all have to fend for yourselves."

"Wow, rude," Terezi pitched in. 

"Sorry baby sister, even you."

"I have a brother," Mituna said, turning again to look at Latula. 

"You sure do," she replied. 

Mituna beamed. 

They all ended up staying at Sollux's place until well after eleven. Logistically, it would have made sense for Dave to drop the Pyropes at their hotel on his way back downtown, but as far as Karkat was concerned, it would feel like a cop out if he let that happen; it didn't help that Dave was still useless and uncomfortable on the subway after dark. 

In the end, they all rode the subway down to Dave's stop and dropped him off before backtracking to the hotel.

"So," Karkat said. "See you tomorrow?"

"Duh," Terezi replied. "What time?"

"Breakfast at like nine, I guess?"

"On a _Sunday_?"

"Okay, fine. Ten?"

"I was joking," she laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. "Call me when you get here?"

"Yeah. So," Karkat said again.

"So what?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "See you tomorrow."

Karkat watched as Terezi frowned a little, but wordlessly let Latula guide her by her elbow towards the hotel doors. He waved before she turned around, but remembered far too late that it was a pointless gesture. 

He should have kissed her.

+++

"So _then_ I said, well, I can't tell you what I said because half the punchline is classified information, but I _assure_ you, it was brutal." 

"No shit," Dirk said, amused. He tossed the vegetable peeler into the sink and swapped it for a small paring knife from the block. "So you're down to what, a week before you're back Stateside?"

"Two," Roxy said. "And I'm willing to kill anyone that gets between me and and a Wendy's."

"Because the food in Europe is so fucking terrible." 

"It's not, but French French fries really aren't like proper French fries."

"Sounds legit," he said. "What the fuck was that?"

"I'm at the station."

"It's two thirty in the morning over there, why the fuck are you getting a train?"

"I've been at work, moron," she said. "It's what they're paying me for."

"Yeah, but holy shit, Rox, there's long days at the office and then there's long fucking days at the offi - oh, shit, fuck!"

The unexpected sound of a train honking, distorted through his cell phone's speakers, startled him enough to send the sharp knife deep into the flesh at the base of his thumb. 

"Dirk? Dirk! You dropped your phone, didn't you?"

"Shit, Jesus, fuck, oh fuck!" Dirk exclaimed, dropping the knife and the potato he'd been cutting into the sink. "Fuck, motherfucking Christ, Jake!"

He snatched up the tea towel that was hanging from the oven handle and wrapped it around his hand, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could manage. 

"Jake, God fucking dammit, get in here!"

"Alright, alright, what are you shouting about?" Jake asked. He walked into the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower, wiping his glasses clean with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Get the keys. Sliced my fucking hand open," Dirk said, trying to rearrange the towel.

"Let me see."

"Jake, the keys, please."

"I'm not saying that you're probably just overreacting," Jake said, returning his glasses to the bridge of his nose. "But your boy had to get his theatrics from somewhere and, _oh_ , no, that _definitely_ needs stitches. How the bloody heck did you manage that peeling potatoes, you twat?"

"Not important, just drive me to the ER, would you?" Dirk asked, re-wrapping his hand after Jake took a cursory glance at the wound.

"Don't be daft, sit down."

"What?"

"I said sit down, I'll do it."

"What? No."

"Dirk, you're panicking. Just sit down," Jake said, brushing past to get to the cupboard. "Quickly then, your only decision right now is whether you want a whiskey or a double whiskey." 

"What."

"So that's a double, I'll take it."

"Jake, fuck. The ER," Dirk said, pacing back and forth across the kitchen as he monitored the amount of blood seeping through the dish towel. "Soon, preferably."

"Look here," Jake started, moving back over to the table with a generously measured glass of whiskey. "If we go into A and E, it'll be a terrible time for everyone involved. And by that, I mean you'll hate the waiting and the bureaucracy of it all, and the poor nursing staff will hate trying to deal with you. Now, would you just sit down, drink up, and try not to bleed on the linoleum?"

Dirk watched as he put the glass down on the kitchen table then turned to head out of the room.

"You're fucking serious."

"Give me a minute to find some proper sutures, I know I've got plenty of the stuff lying around. And I'm deathly serious, drink up," Jake said, before he disappeared out into the hall. "It'll kick in faster than the painkillers will!"

"Shit," Dirk muttered to himself, turning back to the iPhone he'd abandoned on the counter; Roxy had long since hung up. There was a text waiting from his sister, reminding him to call her back once he managed to get his phone repaired from what was apparently a big smash. 

He ignored the message. 

When he finally sat down, he tossed his phone onto the table and swapped it for the whiskey. He took a large mouthful, then another, grimacing at the dull ache in his right hand. 

"Success!" Jake announced, returning triumphantly with an assortment of medical supplies. "Take these. Probably not the best idea to wash them down with liquor, but we don't have much choice."

"We could go to the ER."

"Now you're being ridiculous,"Jake said, handing over the bottle of Advil. "Alright, let's have at it then."

Dirk swallowed two pills as Jake sat down in the chair opposite him and spread a clean towel across the table. 

"Your hand, Dirk."

"This is a terrible fucking idea," he said, sighing as he dropped his hand onto the table.

"Relax, would you? You're acting as if I'm some lunatic who's never done this before," Jake said, a little shortly, as he removed the blood-drenched tea towel from Dirk's hand. "And I _highly_ doubt this will be the first lot of stitches you've ever had."

"No, but it's been something like twenty fi - oh, shit!" 

He flinched as Jake reached into the wound with a pair of tweezers to remove some lint. 

"Oh, stop it," Jake said, clearing as much drying blood from around the injury as he could. "I can assure you that you'll survive this."

"We'll see," Dirk said through gritted teeth, knocking back another mouthful of whiskey as Jake ran an alcohol wipe over the edges of the deep cut. 

He swapped the glass for his phone and opened his camera app. It took a few tries to line up the shot, but he managed to sit the iPhone on its side, resting against the wall, so he could film the entire procedure.

"Really?" Jake scoffed. He was busy threading a small needle with medical-grade suture wire. 

"It'll make good content," Dirk shrugged.

He downed the last of his whiskey when he realised that Jake was already wiping his own hands down with disinfectant.

"Ready?"

"Fuck no."

"Too bad." 

His fingers twitched as the surgical needle pierced his skin for the first time. 

"Shit," he hissed, instinctively trying to free his hand from Jake's by halfway through the third stitch. 

"Should I stop?"

"No."

"Then hold still, would you?"

"What, you had all this shit but no local anesthetic?" Dirk asked, trying to divert the conversation. 

"Of course not, that's much harder to accidentally bring home from work," Jake said nonchalantly. "It's regulated, see. No one gives a toss about the needles, they're just throwaway supplies. Kind of like how it's always the staplers that go missing in films, you know?"

"Yeah. How many more?"

"Another four or five. Let me finish this one off and I'll stop for a bit," Jake said, checking the tension of the stitch before he knotted the thread. "There. Fancy another drink?"

"Maybe later. Just keep going."

"You sure you're holding up alright? You've got that funny look on your face."

"I'm mostly just wondering how the fuck I made it to forty three without ever having backyard surgery done by someone unqualified, on a kitchen table, with minimal supplies," Dirk said, slowly flexing his fingers to make sure that the knife hadn't done any muscle damage. 

"While I'm as surprised by that as you are, it just so happens that I'm as qualified as the next idiot to manage this task," Jake explained, carefully rearranging Dirk's hand on the towel to continue the job. "Moreso, actually. Provided that I never claim to be an MD, there's absolutely no issue with this at all."

"Do you need it in writing that I'm not going to sue you over my own stupidity?"

"No need, you've got it on film," Jake said as he nodded towards Dirk's cell phone without looking up from the table.

"Right."

"You'd forgotten that I'm actually a licensed veterinarian on two continents, hadn't you?" 

"Not exactly forgotten," Dirk said, slowly reaching for his phone to switch off the recording; something suddenly felt wrong, like the camera was interrupting somehow. "I just don't think about it much."

He left the iPhone face down on the table.

"It is bizarre to think about, really," Jake said. He was already tying off the next stitch. "I was so focused on being a research biologist in undergrad. It seemed like a grand adventure, you know? The fieldwork was incredible, a right good time, but I figured it would probably be wise to have something else to fall back on. So I took the Masters, trained to be a vet, all while intending to have those adventures regardless. It was practical more than anything else. I never wanted to go into private practice or anything, but bugger me if the skills didn't neatly transfer to zoology. Trial and error, see?"

"You're talking to an electronics engineer who couldn't do jack shit these days since analog isn't a thing anymore," Dirk sniggered. "And look at all the bullshit I spent two decades doing."

"Bullshit feels like a rather large understatement," Jake pointed out. 

"Yeah, but look where it got m - shit," Dirk hissed, as the sixth stitch snagged at the edge of his wound. 

"Sorry. Three more should do it though, I think."

"Good. Just get 'em done."

"Are you absolutely certain that you don't want a break?" Jake asked. He wiped away a streak of blood that escaped the still-open end of the cut with the back of his hand. "Nine stitches is a hell of a lot with no assistance bar a double whiskey."

"I noticed," Dirk grimaced. "Last three, go." 

It took far too long for him to realise why he'd felt like the camera was an intrusion. 

He'd started filming things years ago. He'd jumped on the YouTube bandwagon when it had first surfaced over a decade earlier, using it as a place to upload videos for his own site rather than hosting them himself. Every so often he'd posted a behind the scenes while he was recording, or travel updates, but he'd never exactly been an active user. 

He'd upped the production after moving to San Diego as a way to pass the time. 

The official Di-Stri channel was a mix of whatever he felt like filming at the time. For the most part, it was frustratingly average Day In The Life videos, with three minute scenes of him drinking coffee or driving to the grocery store, but occasionally he did things that were more exciting, or collaborated with Dave to produce some kind of bullshit that pulled in a ridiculous amount of views. 

The footage of Jake, concentrating but concerned, slowly stitching up the incision across his palm, wasn't something he wanted to share with the world. 

Jake wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone. 

"I think that's you done, mate," Jake said, as he snipped the thread loose from the final suture. "Let me just wash up then I might cover that to keep it clean."

"Huh? Yeah, sure," Dirk said. 

"You right?"

"Yeah. I think the whiskey's finally kicking in," he said. "I'm good."

While Jake scrubbed the blood from his hands with dishwashing liquid, Dirk stared intently at the nine individual stitches now embedded in his hand. Each one was knotted identically, cut off with the same amount of excess thread, perfectly spaced so they all had the same distance between them. 

His palm stung from the trauma of both the injury and treatment.

"Have another," Jake said, sliding a third drink in a fresh glass across the table as he sat back down. "I think you've bloody well earned it at this point."

Dirk picked up the glass and raised it, then drained half of the alcohol in a single mouthful. 

"Thanks."

He grimaced again as Jake spread a thin layer of antibacterial ointment over the injury. It was slow going to move each of his fingers in turn, checking again for any serious damage and to make sure the stitches would hold. He let Jake move his hand around to cover the wound with a gauze bandage, before finally just resting his forearm on the table.

"And to think you wanted to go into A and E," Jake laughed gently, folding the blood-stained tea towel inside the larger linen he'd used as a table covering. "Go lie down, hand up if you can. I'll be in once I clean all this up."

Dirk almost replied, but there was nothing he could think of to say that wouldn't ruin the moment. 

Instead, he just nodded and stayed sitting at the table, waiting, long after Jake had disappeared into the laundry with the blood-stained towels.

+++

When Dave noticed that his phone was ringing, he swiped the back of his knuckle across the screen to answer the call. It took a bit of fumbling to hit the speaker button with the same motion.

"Sup, Rez?"

"Right phone, wrong Pyrope," Latula laughed. "Whatcha up to, coolkid?"

"Having wicked 90s flashbacks, god damn," Dave said. "You know they're dead, right?"

"No way, Jose, the 90s are totally in right now. You gonna answer the question or what?"

"I'm up to my eyeballs in fuck-expensive paint right now, like literally up to my fucking eyeballs. There's some in my eyebrow, I think it's a permanent fixture now. Why?"

"You've got something I need."

"Creepy, but go on."

"Word on the street is you've got a sicknasty board lying around you're probably not using right now," Latula said. 

"Half right. I've got a board, sure, but I'm not sure exactly how sicknasty it is," Dave said, looking down at his phone. "You want to come by and pick it up?"

"Gimme that address, kiddo. I'll be round in half an hour, so see you on the flip side."

"You're talking like that deliberately now, right?"

"It's a mystery for the ages."

"Call me when you're on the block, I'll come out and meet you," Dave said, before he disconnected the call and went back to staring at his work. 

His mom had always told him that even if you were good at something, there would always be a part of it that just never clicked. For her, it was a certain branch of chemistry. Rose had been more than competent at the violin when they were younger, but she'd never learned to hold the instrument correctly. Dirk couldn't write formal letters and emails without being entirely distraction free. 

Dave couldn't paint for shit. 

He'd struggled in his first semester of the compulsory class, only achieving a B grade because he'd drawn up his final design digitally, copied it to the canvas, and made his essay twice as detailed as it had needed to be. 

The second unit was harder because he was out of ideas and filled with more disdain than anyone should ever have towards free art supplies. 

In the end, he'd settled on doing a painting of his Mom's house in the winter. There was enough he could talk about in the essay that it would hopefully push him over the line again. 

He abandoned his still-unfinished work half an hour later in favour of meeting up with Latula to hand over his skateboard. 

She was running a little later than he'd been expecting, but it gave him a chance to clear his head before having to go back into another class within the hour. He leant back against the outside of his residence building, one foot propped up against the wall next to the upright board. 

When Latula arrived, she didn't announce herself or attempt to distract him from his cell phone. She just mimicked his position against the wall, foot up against the brickwork, with her arms folded across her chest. 

"So," she said a few minutes later, when he finally realised she was beside him. "Let's see the merch, coolkid."

To his credit, Dave didn't jump when he noticed Terezi's older sister standing next to him. His surprise was funnelled into the single eyebrow he raised up well above the rim of his shades while he stowed his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. 

He picked up his skateboard by the tail and flipped it up to catch the truck at the opposite end before handing it over to Latula. 

"Are you trying to make this into some kind of shady back-alley transaction despite the fact we're standing on one of the most famous streets in the world?"

"Says the kid wearing a fucking flannel covered in paint on that very same street," Latula shot back, turning the board over in her hands. "This thing's almost dead."

"The deck is, yeah. But the wheels and bearings are new, the trucks were replaced last summer, and fuck you, do you want to borrow it or not?" Dave snapped. 

He knew his skateboard had seen better days but the damage was something he couldn't avoid. The roads back home weren't great - the winter conditions destroyed the bitumen and no one ever came to repair it during the summers. He'd spent half his life covered in gravel rash because of the rampant loose stones on the roads. It meant cleaning grit out of his bearings every few weeks, replacing wheels far more often than he should have had to, and getting new decks whenever the tails were almost non-existent after their repeated contact with the shitty, broken back roads of upstate New York.

Latula had only ever had to deal with city skate parks and suburban sidewalks.

"Of course I want it," she said. "So are you gonna come meet up with the rest of the losers later or what?" 

"Probably not? I have two more classes this afternoon and then a bunch of shit to get done. I've only got one studio session tomorrow and it's in the morning so I'm good then. Tomorrow's Wednesday, right?" Dave asked, pulling out his phone again to check. 

"Yeah. So we'll just hold onto this until tomorrow, aight," Latula said. "Cool?"

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Tuna," she said, gesturing over to her other side where Mituna was standing, quietly, unsuccessfully trying to peel the griptape off the deck of his own skateboard. 

Dave hadn't even realised he was there. 

"Wait, the fuck? If you guys are here, where's Rez?"

"Hey, we made a deal," Latula shrugged. "She doesn't rat me out for hooking up with a guy I just met and I don't even ask what her and the captain of the S.S. Tantrum are getting up to without my piss-poor attempt at supervision." 

"I don't even know where to start trying to deconstruct that bullshit," Dave said distastefully. "Like, don't get me wrong, I really don't want to, but if I did, I wouldn't know where to start. You're leaving now, right? Please tell me you're leaving."

"Cool your jets, we're going," Latula said with a grin. She kicked off from the wall and nudged Mituna with her elbow to get him going as well. "See you round, kiddo."

"Hey," Dave said, before she could start following Mituna back up the block. "You know he gets like, seizures and shit, right? Like, that's a thing Sollux told you?"

"And you know you've got paint on your face, right?" Latula countered. "It's all cool, coolkid. We got this shit covered. Relax. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, probably. Later." 

"Catch you," she said, taking a few running steps to catch up with Mituna. "I'll look after it real good!" She called, turning around to walk backwards for a few paces. "Bye!" 

Dave waved. 

He didn't move from his place against the wall though, not until he'd finished typing out a note on his phone about what had just happened; there was a comic in there somewhere, he just didn't know where. 

He checked the time, hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder, and quickly sent a text as he started walking to his next class. 

TG: hahahaha so its unsupervised handholding time now right bro gj slow clap it out do you want me to mark this day down on the calendar hahaha btw got shit to do tonight so ill be a no show until tomorrow k tell rez i say hi

+++

turntechGodhead [TG] on TODAY 03-17-2015 opened memo on board SOS: MISSING PERSONS REPORT.

turntechGodhead [TG] joined memo!  
carcinoGeneticist [CG] joined memo!  
ghostyTrickster [GT] joined memo!  
tentacleTherapist [TT] joined memo!  
arachnidsGrip [AG] joined memo!  
twinArmageddons [TA] joined memo!  
gallowsCalibrator [GC] joined memo!  
timaeusTestified [TT] joined memo!  
gardenGnostic [GG] joined memo!  
grimAuxiliatrix [GA] joined memo!

TG: so  
GG is offline!  
TG: karkats been mia for like six hours now  
TG: and by mia i totally mean alone with terezi  
TG: so you can see why ive gathered you all here today  
TA banned himself from responding to memo!  
TG: okay that was uncalled for but not unexpected  
TT: Can you really blame him? This is in rather poor taste after all.   
TG: nope  
TG: but at the same time  
TG: you ignore all my texts but respond to this shit immediately  
TG: the fuck rose  
TG: the fuck  
AG: W8, finally?  
TG: massive shrugs on my end  
TG: but speculation is rampant  
AG: Woooooooow, D8ve, who knew you were such a gossipy gossip?  
GA: Thats Rich Coming From You  
AG: Can it, Maryam. I don't h8ve time for your 8ullshit tod8y. Got proof?  
TG: hours and hours of radio silence from the both of them  
TG: definitely unsupervised  
AG: Yeah, they 8anged alright.  
TG: anyone else feel sick  
TT: That is entirely your fault, Dave, and therefore you get absolutely no sympathy from me.  
GT: wait what?  
GT: oh gross!!!!!!!!  
GT: you mean, like, karkat and terezi? nasty.  
TG: youre telling me bro  
TG: youre not even the one who has to look him in the eye later  
TG: its not often im totally thankful for my broken eyes  
TG: but im digging the idea of actually gluing my glasses on right now  
TG: so i never have to make eye contact again  
AG: Surely you're 8eing just a liiiiiiiittle 8it dramatic a8out all this.  
TG: probably  
TG: but the fact remains  
TG: i invited both of them into the chat and theyve said precisely fuck all  
TT: Well, they are rather indisposed at the moment. Isn't that what we've just established?  
TG: whats that  
TG: oh its the sound of me puking all over my keyboard  
GT: gross, dave.  
GT: wait, what time is it over there?  
AG: Wh8t, you're thinking a8out the time in New York 8ut not the time h8re????????  
GT: don't be stupid, i know what time it is here. i've still got twenty minutes!  
AG: ::::(   
GT: don't you ::::( me!!!!!!!!  
AG: ::::(   
TG: okay now im actually gonna hurl  
TT: You do have a remarkably low tolerance for bullshit not your own, don't you, Dave?  
TG: whatever  
TG: first one to hear from either of them report back  


Karkat stopped reading aloud after that. 

When Terezi had announced that she'd finally convinced her mom to let her visit New York, he'd panicked. They'd been dating for years, sure, but it had all been online and he had no way of knowing if it would actually work between them when they were standing in the same room. 

It had been five days and he still had no idea. 

His feelings hadn't changed; he was still hopeless around her. But it was the little things - and the big - that made the reality of their situation sink in. 

One of them would have to immigrate. It would be easier for him to get into Canada, but he'd never really contemplated leaving New York. They still had years left of college, Terezi more than him, which meant another point chalked up for him being the one to move his entire life for the relationship. He could get a job anywhere with a Computer Science degree. 

Online, it was easy to overlook the biggest complicating factor of all. But with her by his side for the better part of a week, he'd only just begun to realise exactly what being blind meant. 

Terezi had always made up for her disability with bravado and wit, but when it came down to it, she was struggling with being in an unfamiliar place. She moved cautiously through rooms, clutched guiding arms while on the street, and was continually asking for detailed descriptions of her surroundings. 

Latula had been concerned, but not concerned enough to change their plans. 

"What next?"

"Garbage," he said, scrolling down in the chat to see what happened. "Literal fucking garbage."

"They all left and Dave was stuck talking to himself, wasn't he?"

"Pretty much. John's taking Vriska to some shit at his school tonight, because they're still playing whatever fucking game they're playing, then it's just like an inane eight hundred word ode to Dave's lunacy."

"So nothing worthwhile."

"Nothing," he said, lifting his arm up from where it had been around her shoulders while he read the chat log aloud. "You hungry?"

"No. Where are you going?"

"To get a coke. Want one?"

"Yeah," she replied.

He looked back over at Terezi from the kitchen, in between slamming the fridge and cupboard doors, just because he could.

There were only three days left before she went home. 

“So,” Karkat started. He put his own glass down on the coffee table and handed Terezi’s directly to her, only partly to ensure she had a firm grasp on the cup. 

“So what? Are we going to sit here like massive losers for the next however many hours? Because that's what it feels like we're going to do,” she said. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, my dad’s not even supposed to finish his shift for four hours so it'll be like six before he's home.”

“And we're just going to sit here and watch Netflix?” Terezi asked, leaning forward to feel out the edge of the table.

“Probably.”

“Yeah, okay. That's not a thing we’re doing. We could -”

“Not that,” he said quickly. 

“Why not?” Terezi asked, her brows furrowing. “You know I have to leave in like three days, right? And when I do, I go back to Toronto and then we've got no idea when we can -”

“I know, I know,” Karkat cut in, frustrated. “Not now.”

“Oh my god, you're such a loser. We are definitely alone, definitely unsupervised, and definitely lacking in the pants-off party area. You know it won't be like the movies, right? You're going to drag this out hoping it'll be some big thing and then we'll end up never getting around to it, that's exactly what will happen,” Terezi explained, falling across the couch to lie with her head on his lap. “You know that, don't you?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. 

“Huge giant loser!”

She let out a loud shriek when he dropped a hand down over her face, reaching up to fight him off. Laughing, she slapped his hand away and landed a slightly too-forceful hit on his chest; he coughed, then shifted in his spot on the couch, sliding back to sit up properly again. 

“I know something we could do,” he said a few minutes later. 

The fight had decidedly ended in Terezi’s favour, and although she refused to move from his lap, Karkat had settled on intermittently running a hand through her hair.

“What is it?”

“Trust me, it'll be fucking fantastic.”

+++

“Please tell me you didn't fuck on my bed.”

Dave just stared, blank-faced, as Terezi burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter and almost toppled off the end of the mattress. 

“See?” Karkat asked, shaking his head a little in response to her reaction.

“No. That's offensive!”

“Those jokes still aren't funny.”

“They are to me,” she said.

“Excuse the fuck out of me for repeating myself here, but can one of you idiots explain why you're in my fucking room?” Dave asked, throwing his satchel down onto the floor in front of his closet. 

He kicked off his boots by the door. No response. 

He hung his coat up on its hook. No response. 

He traded his prescription glasses for a pair of Wayfarers. No response. 

“We're getting pizza later. Want to come?” Karkat asked.

“I'm going to piss, and then I'm going to ask the RA who I call to have beds incinerated,” Dave said, storming over to the bathroom and slamming the door after himself.

More than a little of the dramatic effect was lost because of just how close the bathroom was to where he was already standing. 

He heard them both start laughing as soon as he closed the door.

“It's Tuesday,” he said, once he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. 

“And?” Terezi asked, cocking her head towards him when he spoke. 

“And tomorrow's Wednesday, which means I've got studio bullshit at like nine in the fucking morning.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And why does that mean you can't come out for pizza?” 

Dave scowled at Terezi, mostly for her comment and partially because with her on his bed and Karkat backwards on his desk chair, there was nowhere left for him to sit. He settled on propping his shoulder against the bathroom door frame. 

“Because it's like six thirty already and I don't want to go out and deal with some pizza place full of fucking college kids on a goddamn Tuesday night,” Dave snapped. 

“Tylenol?” Karkat offered, picking up the bottle from the desk behind him.

“Yes, I want a fucking Tylenol,” Dave said. He snatched the bottle up when Karkat offered it, shook out two pills, and doubled back into the bathroom to get a glass of water. 

“Wow,” Terezi said, impressed. “Hey,” she added, loud enough to be heard over the running faucet. “We can order in, right?”

Dave sighed. 

"We can order in if I can have my desk back," he said eventually, shoving Karkat sideways until he started moving. "And I'm not going downstairs to pick it up."

It was easier than he expected to work with his friends camping out in his dorm room. They were surprisingly subdued, only pestering him when they needed the input of a third person to break the tie in an argument. For the most part, they were the background noise while he worked on his next commission. He didn't even notice the food had arrived until Karkat flicked the back of his head to get his attention. 

"Hey, I totally forgot," Dave said, through a mouthful of pizza. "Here, came today."

Terezi jumped when the heavy padded envelope unexpectedly hit the floor beside Karkat's left foot. 

"Sorry," Dave said. "But yeah, don't go flaunting it around or anything, it's not out for two weeks but whatever. He said I could give it to you whenever it got here."

"What the fuck?" Karkat asked. He dropped his half eaten slice of pizza down onto the lid of the box and wiped his fingers on his jeans. He raised an eyebrow when he realised Dave was staring intently, slowly chewing his food while he waited. "Stare harder, douche."

"Am I staring again?" Terezi asked. 

"Not you, this asshole," Karkat said, tearing the envelope open. "Holy shit."

"I know, right? He actually finished fucking around with it long enough to get it printed," Dave explained, trying not to laugh as Karkat turned the book over in his hands. "Oh yeah, check page four thirteen, near the back."

"Why?" 

" _Dude_."

"Okay, okay, Jesus. What the _fuck_?"

"They call it a shout out, you know, kind of like that thing I do when I tag you in shit so people can see the bullshit I put up with every day," Dave taking, taking another large mouthful of his pizza. "I bet him fifty bucks he wouldn't do it to make sure he put it in."

"Oh my god, can someone please explain what you idiots are blabbing on about?" Terezi asked. 

"Bro finally got his book printed, you know, the shit he's been working on for like a year trying to get every inane fucking detail about Cal's backstory just the right amount of fucked up? Yeah, it's coming out in two weeks," Dave explained. "And I bet him that he couldn't write five pages of thanks, so he did, and he put Karkat's name in there for shits and giggles."

"What does it say?" 

"Uh," Karkat cleared his throat awkwardly. " _'Vantas, for keeping my kids' addiction(s) in check'_ ," he read aloud. "You have more than one?"

"I think he means the frapps," Dave shrugged. "He's a fucking madman, who'd know either way?"

"Look, I think we've established at this point that he's pretty fucking hyper-aware you're never more than three feet from a bottle of painkillers."

"They're prescription, doesn't count. He's definitely talking about the potent combination of sugar and caffeine I ingest."

"This is officially the gayest conversation I've sat through this week," Terezi said, struggling to keep a straight face for a few seconds before she let out a cackle. 

"Number one, go fuck yourself," Dave started. "And number two, I overheard you on the phone with Vriska on Monday so let's call it even and forget this entire conversation ever happened."

"Which part did you hear?"

Dave grinned when he realised the overwhelming calmness in her voice was just disguising something not too far removed from panic. 

"I was just fucking with you, but hey, at least now I know for sure we're even."

"Hey, pizza, remember that?" Karkat interjected, tossing the book aside to exchange it for his half-eaten slice of pizza.

A few minutes of silence passed as they all kept working their way through the pizza.

"You're in a photo on page seventy four and he signed your copy," Dave added. 

Almost immediately, he had to slap Karkat between the shoulder blades to dislodge some cheese from his throat.

+++

"Tula?"

"Hmmfph?"

"It's Friday."

"Mmmhmm."

"We have to leave in like an hour."

"'m packed, Rezi."

"Yeah, but we have to _leave_ in an _hour_."

"His break's over, we can't stay," Latula mumbled.

Terezi listened to the sounds of her sister struggling to kick back her blankets. She watched the light levels shift in the room as Latula finally got up out of bed and flicked the switch on her way to the bathroom. 

She sat up slowly in her own bed as the reality of the situation started to sink in. 

They'd been in New York for a week and it was time to go home. She had no idea when she'd be able to get back down from Toronto - between studying and her mom, any time soon seemed like an improbability. University was challenging. She had a lot to learn and accessible resources were hard to find. 

"What do you think Mom would say if he came to visit us?"

"Yeah, that'll go down well," Latula said, coming back into the room to stand at the end of Terezi's bed. "What," she continued, through a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hey Mom, this is my boyfriend Karkat who I met online and this is his boyfriend Dave who he met online."

"That's not even true," Terezi scowled. "But Mom would be okay with it, right?"

"Probably," Latula shrugged. "Definitely leave off the Dave part." 

"Oh my God, Tula, give it up. Dave's not even allowed to go to Canada."

By the time they were both packed and ready to leave, Karkat was already waiting on the sidewalk outside the hotel. 

"So is the coolkid still coming or what?" Latula asked, setting their shared suitcase down against the wall, where it would be out of the way. "Because I've still got his board and if he's not here I'm keeping it." 

"He's coming. He's just a fucking idiot who missed his train because he was doing some bullshit or something," Karkat said. 

"Like bullshit bullshit or work bullshit?" Terezi asked, reaching out to indicate to Karkat that he should move closer. 

"School bullshit. He finished a class but he started doing something else and forgot to leave, I don't know. I stopped listening halfway through his shitty excuse for a reason."

"He's got a ten minute buffer and then I'm just grabbing the first taxi to drive past," Latula said. 

"He's like two stops away," Karkat shrugged. "Or he was five minutes ago, anyway." 

"Dude, if you're gonna trash talk me, make sure I'm not like three feet away first," Dave said; Terezi snorted as she listened to the two of them trying to out-slap each other. "And secondly, who forgets to leave a class, dude? Who? Like Sollux, maybe, but he doesn't forget he's just usually asleep when it's time to go home."

"So why were you late, smart ass?"

"Because I had to go to a meeting so they could tell me that yeah, after months of deliberation they've decided to give me enough credits for all the shit I've done with Bro that I can basically wipe a semester off my course if I overload one class in one semester between now and then. Like, I'll graduate at the end of the Fall semester instead of going back for the Spring as well," Dave explained. "I can't just skip out on all my core Art History and Humanities shit or anything, but still. I have to go see some course advisor next week to map out what I'm doing for the next few years so I'm still balanced."

"Rad," Latula said. "Catch," she added, throwing Dave's skateboard at him. He caught it, but only just, and the tail ended up painfully connecting with his shin. He hissed in pain but lifted the board up and wedged it under his arm; there was no point strapping it to his backpack since they were about to get into a cab. 

Latula grinned then stepped out onto the curb, waving a hand until one of the taxis finally stopped for her. 

It was a subdued drive back to LaGuardia. Even Dave and Karkat, crammed into the back seat beside each other, were quiet. Dave snapped photo after photo along the way, most of them out of his wound-down window. Latula kept glancing back at her sister in the rear-view mirror, but Terezi had no idea and continued to stare blankly out at the city she didn't know was passing by. 

Dave was first out of the cab once they pulled up at the terminal. He unlatched the trunk and threw his backpack over one shoulder, then hauled the Pyrope's suitcase out onto the sidewalk. While Karkat paid the driver, Latula helped strap the skateboard to Dave's backpack. 

"So," Terezi said, rocking back on her heels once she and Latula were checked in for their flight home. "Who's gonna be the whiny, whiny baby and cry in the taxi when I leave? The only right answer is both of you."

"We're getting the bus," Karkat replied. "Sit down."

"I'm about to sit down on a plane for an hour and a half," she huffed, pacing back and forth in front of the two boys and her sister. "And then when we get home it's gonna be like five degrees outside."

"What's that in American?"

"About forty," Karkat said. 

"That's not even cold," Dave scoffed. "It's _maybe_ thirty at my place right now."

"Liar!"

"No shit, Rez. Mom's place is way further north-east than yours. Shit gets mad cold. Me and Rose used to pour soda out her bedroom window in like, January, and see how much froze before it hit the ground."

"Did it work?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "Then Mom would yell at us for pouring soda on the house." 

"That was a cool story, Dave. Tell it at a party sometime and it will make you hundreds of friends," Terezi said, as she finally came to a stop in front of him. 

"You think you need to tell me how to make friends? I'm the king of making friends when I want to, but right now, I want to piss. I'll be back."

They all just watched as Dave stepped over the pile of backpacks and started crossing to the other side of the terminal; even Terezi just stared off in the direction he'd gone. 

"You think he left because of the cool story thing?" 

"No, I think he left because he wanted a coffee but didn't want to just own up to it," Karkat said. "He better hurry the fuck up though."

"We're blowing this joint when he gets back," Latula said. "We've got like eight rounds of security to clear and maybe an hour to do it. Better start saying those goodbyes, nerds." 

"So."

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, no mushy stuff. The stupid airport scenes in movies are always mushy and dumb so don't even try," Terezi said. "One hug."

"But -"

"Take it or leave it," she shrugged, hands on her hips while she stared down at the dark shape that she'd been taking for granted was actually Karkat, and not just one of the empty chairs beside him.

She let out a sharp laugh when he threw his arms around her - she hadn't even noticed him standing up. He squeezed her tightly, almost too tightly, as if he was trying to apologise for just how long they both knew it would be before they saw each other again. 

"I'll figure something out."

"Maybe figure out how to not be such a huge baby," she said, laughing as she returned the hug. 

"Shut up."

"What if my plane crashes into Lake Ontario and then you realise that the last thing you ever said to me was 'shut up'?"

"Oh my fucking God," he muttered. "Just get on the plane."

"Wow, gay."

Karkat lifted one arm just long enough to flip Dave off over Terezi's shoulder, earning snorts of laughter from the other two. He didn't keep it up for long, though - he knew perfectly well they were down to just minutes before the Pyrope girls had to make their way through airport security to fly back over the border.

+++

"Hey, what the - give it back, shitlord," Karkat snapped. 

They were sitting on the bus back to Manhattan when Dave reached over and snatched Karkat's phone directly out of his hand. 

"Hang on."

"If I even thought about touching your phone, you'd scratch my goddamn eyes out!"

"Not true, I don't give a shit if you touch my phone," Dave said, swiping through folders until he found Instagram. "You know my passcode and everything, dude. Like, it's rude as fuck that I don't know yours so I had to wait until you were using it to do this." 

"You're not getting jack," Karkat replied. "Did you make another shitty account I have to follow? Because just fucking use the one account, Dave. No one needs that many Instagram accounts. No one, not even you. You've got what, like twelve?"

"Four, including this one. Godhead, personal, work, and now this so called shit," he explained. He handed the phone back to Karkat, who immediately started scrolling through the account Dave had just followed for him. "It's private. I can fuck around with the settings if you want but it's just us and Rez and Sollux and shit." 

"You set up a fucking account?"

"Yeah, I could have just done some shitty Facebook album but this was a way cooler option. Like there's one or two in there that I want to repost on my work account because they're really good shots, but whatever. A twenty-first century photo album for that one time your girlfriend came to New York."

"Thanks?"

"Yeah, that's your birthday gift as well so don't even bother asking for anything."

"And there it is."

"Dude, you know how much a professional would charge for that shit? That's like a 3k gift right there," Dave said, sorting through the alerts on his own phone. 

"I said thanks."

"No, seriously, let me Google this shit. Wait, no, I don't even have to. I'll work it out on my regular commission charge."

"Dave, shut the fuck up."

Dave shut the fuck up. 

"You want to go for Five Guys?"

"Fine," Karkat sighed, stowing his phone in his pocket as the bus pulled up at the station. "Which one?"

"Bleeker?"

"Whatever. You're buying anyway."

"Says who?"

"Says all the fucking movies where the dick stops being a dick long enough for his friend to get over the fact his girlfriend's just gone back to another fucking country," Karkat snapped. "Screenwriting tip number fucking one." 

To his credit, Dave didn't say anything to that. He waited until they were on the train, back over the river, and almost at their station before he finally spoke. 

"Full truth or half truth?" 

"Half," Karkat grunted, standing up as the train pulled into Christopher St-Sheridan Square station. 

"I'm gonna miss her too, dude." 

"What's the full truth?"

"I was thinking about how it totally blows having a best friend that you've literally only seen once," Dave shrugged, following Karkat out onto the platform. "At least mine's in the country."


	6. [A5.2A4]: he's not like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the past just keeps coming back.

**April, 2015**

"Forget it, buddy. It's twelve-oh-one. I'm not clicking any links, opening letters, or packages, or checking your texts, nothing. I'm not looking at jack shit that's got anything to do with you until exactly twenty-four hours from now because you, John, are the fucking worst."

"What? It's only nine." 

"It's midnight here, therefore the first, therefore April Fools' Day. I'm not a fucking idiot." 

"Dammit, Dave. Just open the link."

"It's a fucking Rickroll. You think I haven't have that URL memorised for what's got to be the majority of my life at this point? Go to bed, John."

"It's only nine here."

"Yeah, but school night blah blah blah, don't make me tell Mom."

"So it's midnight for you! What if I tell Dad?"

"C'mon, John. I've got two dads already, what's a third gonna do that the first two haven't?"

"Be competent?"

"Wow, rude."

"Open the link!"

"There is no force on this fucking Earth that will convince me to open the Rickroll link," Dave said, finally. "So how many hours have you got in the studio tomorrow?"

"I don't know, like six? I've got a thing happening soon and I need to practice. What about you?"

"Art History all morning, field trip at one, studio until six."

"Neat. Where're you going?"

"The Met. It's okay, but I've already been like three times."

"I like that it's taken you less than a year to get bored of New York City," John laughed. 

"I'm not bored of the city, I've just been to that specific museum like a billion times already. Tell me you're not bored of Seattle though, you moved like forty minutes away from home." 

"I guess, a little? I never spent much time here before though. Dad works here but that's it. Seattle's okay. I like it, anyway. Do you actually like New York?"

"Let me be totally real here for a minute, John. I don't think I've ever liked anything as much as I like this fucking city, and that includes Bro's mac and cheese."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Like, yeah, it's loud and busy and everything smells like piss, just all the time. Everything is just piss stench everywhere, like, as if God's cat claimed this spot as it's own or something, just pissed all the fuck over it. But it's a pretty okay place to be."

"Gross," John said, wrinkling his nose. "That was graphic."

"Not my best, I'm totally willing to admit that. What I'm also totally willing to admit is how much New York shits all over Seattle, bro. Just, all over it," Dave said. He pushed his chair backwards and picked up his phone from where it had been lying on his unmade bed. "Huh. Okay."

"Number one, even grosser. You made a gross thing even grosser. Number two, what's so huh and so okay?"

"Mom's dad just dropped dead." 

"You mean your grandpa?" John asked.

"Are we calling him that?"

"If that's what he is?"

"I met him like twice, dude. Doesn't count," Dave said, tossing his phone aside once he closed out of the messages app. 

"You only met your grandpa twice?"

"Yeah, and now he's dead. You want to play some Minecraft? I need to fix that bit of rail you fucking blew up last week." 

" _Dude_."

+++

"You can't opt out of a funeral!" 

"Watch me, Rox. Just fucking watch me." 

Roxy sighed and sat down on the end of her bed; this wasn't exactly the kind of conversation she wanted to have at six in the morning. 

She had been woken up fifteen minutes earlier by her phone ringing from the hotel nightstand. It had to be important - her work calls didn't start getting through until seven. It was midnight for the kids back on the East Coast and it wouldn't have been the first time one of them had called her forgetting about the time difference. 

When she read the screen and saw who the call was from, she'd known that it was something she couldn't avoid. 

Her own mother never called, not unless it was an emergency. 

A stroke, they thought. Sudden and unexpected. Funeral the following Monday. 

You'll need to tell your brother, her mother had said shortly. 

It was hard to say just how Dirk was taking the news. He'd bypassed any kind of shock and had immediately gone on the defensive; his refusal to attend the funeral was an aggressive one. 

"Dirk," she said again, patiently, running a hand through her fallen curls. "We have to."

"Fine, you go and represent us. I'm not stopping you from doing that."

"Just this once."

"No," he said. "End of story." 

"You're a grown-ass adult, Dirk. It'd be great if you could start acting like it sometime soon, because fuck you if you think I'm going alone," Roxy snapped. 

"I haven't set foot in that house in twenty five fucking years and I'm not changing that now."

"I need you there," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"I need you there. You think I'm gonna be like hey, mom, I know it's a funeral and everything but can you bitch-slap anything stronger than a coffee out of my hands? I'm a month away from hitting a year, you asshole, and you want to send me to something like this alone?"

It might have been a low blow, but it was the truth. She had no idea what she'd do if she had to go to her father's funeral alone. The threat alone would be enough to convince Dirk, but he wouldn't be thrilled by the manipulation.

He was quiet on the other end of the phone line, but breathing heavily into the receiver. 

"I'll think about it," he said, then abruptly hung up. 

Roxy sighed again. She dialled another number as she shifted to sit up at the top of her bed, switching the TV on to watch the morning news. 

"Sup, Mom?"

"Hey, baby," she said gently. "You got my text, huh?"

"Yeah." Dave replied. "Sorry, or whatever. Are you okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, I am. We weren't exactly close, you know that."

"Yeah, but I guess it still has to suck, right?" 

"A little, yeah. I suppose you could say it sucks a little," Roxy said with a weak laugh. "Did you want to come to the funeral?"

"Is this one of those trick questions where you're letting me think I have a choice, but really you've already decided for me?" Dave asked. He was obviously only paying minimal attention to their conversation.

"No, it's really up to you." 

"Can I say no? I'm getting into all my finals projects and shit, and I didn't exactly know the guy, you know? Like I guess he's my grandpa, or like, he was, but I only ever met him like twice or something in my whole life? Kinda feels like I'd be gatecrashing a funeral and that's not exactly cool, right?"

"You can say no, baby," she said. "Now go to bed, you're up too late for a school night." 

"Soon, I'm just finishing something," he said. 

"You're playing _Minecraft_." 

"No I'm not."

"I can hear the music. Go to bed," Roxy said again. "Goodnight, Dave."

"Night Mom," he said. "Love you."

"Love you too, baby," she said, before disconnecting the call. 

While she'd figured that the kids would say no, it was up to them to make the decision. Dave was right in saying that they'd never really known their grandparents. She'd felt guilty about that when they were younger. 

One more call before she could have a shower. 

"No."

The response was almost as blunt as Dirk's had been.

"No what, Rosie?"

Roxy rolled her eyes when she realised that someone had beaten her to the punch, giving Rose more than enough time to plan out her answer.

"I'll join you if Kanaya is welcome," Rose said. "That's the best I can do, I'm afraid." 

"She's welcome but I don't think this is the right time to make a statement."

"And what about my dear uncle and his partner, you know, my _other_ dear uncle."

"Jake won't be coming," Roxy said. "I haven't even got a straight answer out of Dirk yet."

"Hm," Rose mused aloud. "I take it that Dave also said no?"

"He said a lot of things, but I'm pretty sure a no was in there somewhere."

"Then absolutely not, no."

"Fine," Roxy sighed.

"Thank you. Will I see you soon regardless?"

"Give me a break, hun, my dad just died. I'll plan a trip down within the month. Now off to bed for you as well, Rosie, okay?" 

"As well?"

"Oh, Dave's still awake and I just told him to go to bed. Who told you, by the way?"

"My idiot savant of a brother posted a screencap of a lava pit, tagged John's flaming corpse in it, and made a charming crack about how he was as dead as his grandfather," Rose explained. "Instagram, if you want to look."

"No, I think I'm okay. Love ya, hun." 

"Bye, Mom." 

Roxy sighed heavily and tossed her phone back down onto the bed side table. She had to finish getting ready for work. 

It was going to be a very long week.

+++

As soon as the plane hit the tarmac, Dirk felt his stomach turn. He'd been fine leaving San Diego, fine during his stopover at O'Hare, fine during descent. It had taken three days for Jake to convince him that going to the funeral was the best thing to do, even if only for some kind of closure. The flight was short enough that he wasn't fazed by the journey itself; watch a movie, have a beer, get some sleep. 

Then the plane landed, the captain welcomed everyone to Syracuse, and Dirk felt sick. 

He hadn't been home in twenty five years. 

"Do you remember," he started, cigarette hanging from his mouth as he threw open the sliding door of Roxy's minivan. "When Dave was eight, and he had that appointment here, in the city, you know, with that fucked up eye specialist?"

"Hello to you too," Roxy said, turning around in her seat to watch him toss his suitcase on the floor beside hers. "And yeah, how could I forget? You pitched a fit which made him pitch a fit, and then you decided to be out of town anyway so I had to take him."

"No, I was _conveniently_ out of town," he said. He closed the back door of the van and climbed up into the front seat. "I'm gonna hurl, I can't do this." 

"And how many have you had?" Roxy asked, waving a hand towards the cigarette Dirk was holding out the window. She pulled out into traffic and gestured a thanks to the cab who'd let her in. 

"Three."

"In?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"There's your answer. And hurry up with that one, it's thirty four degrees outside," she added.

"Yeah, I'd noticed," Dirk snapped. He took a long, final drag and threw the last third of the cigarette out the window. 

He stayed quiet as Roxy drove, knowing that it was only a fifteen minute trip in good traffic. Fifteen minutes left until he had to face everything he'd been trying to forget for over two decades. 

As much as he'd tried to forget, it all came rushing back as soon as soon as they turned off the highway. The narrow, tree-lined streets and the big houses with their wide lawns gave the whole suburb a TV family vibe. People were walking their dogs in the brisk mid-afternoon air, hurrying back home before the temperature dropped further for the night. He'd always hated it, nothing had ever seemed genuine. None of the smiling, Stepford-esque families, the immaculate lawns, had ever seemed real.

But everything was the same. 

He wanted to run when they pulled up in front of the house. He almost did when his sister turned off the ignition.

When Roxy reached for her suitcase, he swatted her hand out of the way; if he took both bags, he'd at least have something else to focus on for a while. He followed her, three steps behind, carrying their luggage over the sodden grass and up to the front door. 

He thought about throwing up in the camellias. It wouldn't have been the first time. 

When the door opened and his mother stood there, waiting, he couldn't bring himself to say or do anything but let her kiss his cheek before she let him into the house. 

He set the suitcases down by the stairs and let Roxy lead him through to the living room. 

"What?"

They'd been talking for what felt like hours, leaving Dirk to nurse a cold cup of coffee dregs for just as long. He was still in the living room with Roxy, his mother, an aunt, and three or four old family friends who he vaguely remembered; they all looked so different than the last time he'd seen them. It would have been Christmas, he realised, the Christmas of nineteen eighty-nine. Perhaps Easter of the following year, or during the summer of nineteen ninety, the summer he'd been packed for college by the beginning of July. 

His mother repeated the question. 

She looked so different without the perm and the power suit. 

He probably looked different as well, he figured. She was probably thinking the same about him; he didn't have the bad haircut or the torn, acid-washed jeans. 

"I asked you about your son."

"Huh? Dave? Yeah. Good, he's good. Eighteen, nineteen in December."

"And what's he doing with himself?" 

The question was asked by an aunt, or someone who he'd always been told was an aunt; he couldn't remember which. 

"College. He's almost finished his first year, down in the city. A's mostly, some B's. He just got credit for being published, he can graduate early if he doesn't fuck up," Dirk said, giving a soft snort of laughter as he swirled the remainder of his room-temperature coffee around in his mug. "He's a good kid. A real good kid." 

"What is he studying?"

"Art, as in, Fine Arts. I mean, he does comics and digital art and things like that mostly, a bit of photography when he can get away with submitting it, but he's good. He's really fucking good."

"Do you have any photos of him?" 

That was his mother, he didn't have to look up to know that. 

"Photos? Yeah," he laughed. "Yeah, I've got photos." 

As he took his phone from his pocket, he noticed, for the first time, that his hands were shaking. 

It wasn't hard to find any photos of Dave. Dirk's phone was full of them, because Dave was nothing if not willing to pose for a picture whenever anyone asked. He loaded up the app and swiped through a few more recent snaps and then turned the iPhone around. 

"Are they recent?"

"Yeah, from February. He came out to visit for a weekend," he said. 

_Visiting_ probably wasn't the right word for what had happened in February. It was the weekend that Dave had fled the city in a state of sheer panic, and flown across the country unannounced. Most of the photos were from the Sunday afternoon, after they'd figured out why Dave was even there. They'd had a few good hours before his flight home. As he swiped through each picture of his kid laughing, the nausea he'd felt upon entering the house earlier started to return. 

"Who's the other one?"

"Huh?" 

Dirk flipped his phone back around so he could see the screen properly. It was the last shot he'd taken that day, of Dave and Jake at the airport. Dave had pulled his chair over and was sitting sideways, his spine supported by the outside of Jake's upper arm. When he'd realised Dirk was trying to take a photo, he'd put his own phone down and turned his head, still resting on Jake's shoulder, to face the camera. 

He'd been meaning to get that one printed, so he could hang it upstairs in his office.

"That's Jake," he said flatly.

He locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. 

"Oh, of course," his mother said, clearing her throat. "And he's, your. Well, he's your," she went on, gesturing vaguely towards Roxy as if expecting her daughter to interrupt and finish the sentence for her. 

"Yeah," Dirk said. "Dave likes him," he added with a weak laugh.

"So," his aunt started. "How are you finding retirement? You were all over the newspapers," she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. 

"That, yeah, that's a thing I did. It's on and off, mostly. I just put out a book, and it's doing alright. I'd be bored otherwise," Dirk explained. "There were a few loose ends to tie up, and a lot of plot points never made it onto the albums, so I had the information already, it just needed a place to exist, you know? Writing it all down filled in a year." 

"A year during which you did nothing else?"

"What, you think I just sat on my ass and mooched off Jake for a year?" he snapped. "I could just sit on my ass for the rest of my life if I want to, it wouldn't make any difference." 

"Dirk," Roxy said, reaching out to pat his knee; he knocked her hand out of the way before she could even make contact. 

"What? I've got money, he works full-time, what's the big deal? I can put my kid through college, buy him whatever he needs, hell, I could buy him a house if he wanted one. Why should it matter that I took my time getting something right before I sent it out for publishing? I'm fine, Jake's fine, and my kid is fine, end of _fucking_ story." 

There was a moment of silence then, until his aunt spoke up again. 

"Your son, Dave, he's not. Well, he's not like you, is he? All that exposure can't have been good for him."

"Okay, I'm out," Dirk said, roughly slamming his mug down onto the coffee table as he stood up. "I'm done, I'm fucking done." 

He only paused long enough to grab his suitcase from the bottom of the stairs. 

It had always been the same. He'd get caught on the doorstep, ready to vomit into the garden, and would be interrogated about everything he'd done that night - who he'd seen, where he'd gone, what substances he'd taken. One of them would hit breaking point less than ten minutes later, and bolt furiously upstairs and out of sight. 

Twenty five years. 

Nothing had changed.

+++

"Get in the car."

"No!"

"Get in the car!"

"I said no!"

"And I said get in the car!"

"And I said no!"

John scowled and slumped even further down against the bus stop shelter. He was cold, uncomfortable, and his shoulder hurt from falling against the wall because he'd been standing further away from the bus stop than he'd originally thought. 

He still wasn't getting in the car, though. 

"John!"

"Go home, Vriska! Obviously I'm not getting in the car because I'm standing at the bus stop! Do you know what stops at bus stops? Buses do!"

"No shit, idiot. Get in!"

"No!" 

"It's like thirty five degrees and you don't have a coat!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed! I was born here, it's not even cold, you - you, swamp thing!" John exclaimed. 

He frowned again when he noticed Vriska cock an eyebrow. 

She rolled her eyes and took her keys out of the ignition. John looked personally offended when she stepped out of the car and walked around it to stand in the bus stop as well, shivering in her thick sweater. 

"What are you doing?"

"Buses stop at bus stops, John," she said, mockingly, stepping from foot to foot to try and fight off the cold. "If you won't get in the car, I'll wait at the bus stop."

"That's not the point!" John shouted. He stepped away from the bus shelter and threw open the passenger's side door of Vriska's car and sat down inside. He slammed the door then locked it for good measure. 

"I have the keys! It's my car, remember?"

"Dammit!"

By the time Vriska sat back down in the driver's seat, John was staring out of the window with his arms folded across his chest. She turned the engine over and set the heater to full blast. 

"I'm gonna drive you." 

"No you're not."

"You're already in the car, doofus! And you've locked yourself in, what are you gonna do, jump out while I'm driving?"

"No, but I'll call my dad and tell him you kidnapped me!"

"You're nineteen in a week, I don't think it counts as kidnapping if you're almost nineteen."

"Shut up, Vriska," John snapped. "Fine, but I'm not saying thank you." 

"Fine," Vriska snipped back, pulling out from the curb without indicating. 

It had been a long night. 

She'd blue-shelled him less than ten seconds after promising she wouldn't use the power up. 

John had stormed out of her new, shitty apartment without even finishing the round of Mario Kart. He'd shouted something about collecting his Wii U another time as he fumed down the stairs and out of the complex. 

She'd known he wouldn't get far. It was almost freezing out, he didn't have a coat, and it was a long bus trip across town back to his dorm. 

"Yeah, a McDouble, medium sweet tea, and a cheeseburger Happy Meal. Coke. I don't care," Vriska said into the speaker, when she pulled into the McDonald's drive thru. "Can I borrow ten bucks?"

"No," John said indignantly. 

Vriska made a show of rummaging through her pockets as they stopped at the first window. She handed over a crumpled ten dollar note and threw her change straight into the glove compartment, making sure to let it drop open onto John's knees first. When the teen in the window started passing out the order, she put her own drink in the only reliable cup holder and left her burger sitting on her lap; John's soda was thrust into his hand, followed closely by the Happy Meal. 

"Eat your baby meal, you giant baby," she said, turning out of the McDonald's driveway with one hand - the other was holding her sweet tea. 

"No way, it's totally a bribe." 

"A bribe for what? Just eat it." 

"It's like eleven at night!" 

"So? What toy did you get?" 

"Ugh," John sighed, but opened the box anyway. "A dumb alien thing from that dumb, stupid _Home_ movie. 

"Lame. Eat your fries or I'll make you eat them when they're cold." 

"Ew."

"Yeah," Vriska said, making another sharp turn just as the light turned yellow. "So are you really pissed or just faking it?"

"I'm really pissed," he said, scowling with a mouthful of fries. "You said you wouldn't do something then turned right around and did it anyway."

"That's at least eighty percent of my personality, John." 

"I know!" John exclaimed. He rolled down his window just far enough to throw out the burnt end of a fry. "Where are we going?"

"Back to your dorm, idiot." 

"Why?"

"Because you ran away in the middle of a tournament, I kinda took that as a sign that you'd called it quits for the night." 

"Huh," he said. "Thanks, I guess?"

"You owe me for the McDonald's interlude."

"No fair!"

"Way fair. Shut up." 

John shut up, and unwrapped his cheeseburger. 

"Sorry," she said bluntly. "It's been a shitty week."

"That's okay, you're always kind of horrible anyway and you're not being that much more horrible than normal," he said with a shrug. 

"Wow, thanks." 

"That's a good thing," he said, in what was meant to be a reassuring way. 

Instead of taking it that way, she took her eyes off the road and raised a quizzical eyebrow at him from the driver's' seat. 

"Yeah, thanks John."

"Shouldn't you be looking where you're driving?"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own car," she snapped, turning back to the road. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I said, _I'm fine_."

He didn't think that she sounded fine, but he was learning that it was usually better to just let Cyclone Vriska run its course before trying to pick up the pieces. Instead of goading her into an argument, he just sat and ate his McDonalds while she drove - too fast and too recklessly - back across town to his dorm building. 

"Bye, John," Vriska said, pulling up in the student parking lot. She slipped her car into into park and set the handbrake, finally reaching for her own burger. The keys were still in the ignition, pumping heat out into the vehicle. 

"I can hang out until you finish eating if you want? I've still got fries anyway," he offered. 

"Can I have one?"

"Yeah."

They sat in comfortable silence after that, listening to _Uptown Funk_ still blasting through the car radio. 

"My room is always super warm if you want to sleep on the floor tonight," John said, through a mouthful of fries.

"Yeah, okay," Vriska replied. Her response came far too quickly.

John didn't know if it was because the offer was there for his floor specifically, or if it was because of the heating. All he knew was that Vriska, since dropping out of College a week into the Winter semester, had only used the heat in her apartment twice.

+++

Dirk knew what it felt like to be punched in the gut. It had been a long time since he'd last been in a fist fight, but there was no forgetting the sensation; his stomach dropping, the sudden breathlessness, and the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat. 

The pain was back; the old diner was gone. 

When Roxy had knocked on his door at almost two thirty in the morning, she'd found him lying on his bed, headphones on and feet hanging off the end of the mattress - the only thing that seemed to have changed in over two decades was that his headset was plugged into his phone instead of his record player. 

He didn't need any convincing to sneak out of the house. Coffee, she'd suggested, at the old place. She'd driven them into the city center, Madonna blasting through Spotify, and pulled up in a nearly empty parking lot. 

They had no way of knowing when the place had been torn down. 

"Hey," she said gently, watching as he stared out at their minivan, one of three cars in the Denny's lot. "You holding up?"

"What do you think?"

Dirk dragged a fork through his hashbrowns to tear off the corner. Denny's had never been as good as the old diner, but it was a close second. They'd both ended up at the chain restaurant more than enough during their teen years, and at three in the morning, he wasn't in much of a position to complain. 

"I think you need to calm down," she said gently, pushing her eggs to one side. "You'll burn out if you don't."

"Why do you think I moved to fucking Texas?"

"And look how much has happened since then. You made a career, a kid, a relationship, that was all you baby brother," Roxy went on. "And reverting back to the way you used to be isn't the answer to anything, trust me. I've been there and done that six times over."

"And just accepting this shit is?"

"Face it, Dirk. We're both too old for this kind of shit anymore. You're too old to keep fighting the same fights you fought in the eighties. It's over."

"It's not."

"The war? You're right, it's not. It'll never be over. But your personal battle? That's over. You have to let it go, or burning out will be the least of your problems."

Dirk put down his knife, resting it on the edge of his plate, and swapped it for his cup of weak, drip-filtered coffee.

"Do you think Dave's happy?" 

"What?" Roxy asked, her coffee cup clinking against her rings as she lifted it off the table. 

"Dave. Do you really think he's happy?"

"We'd know if he wasn't," she said.

"He's living alone in New York City. There's over a million people in Manhattan and he's friends with maybe three of them," Dirk started, as he swapped his coffee for his knife. "He works non-stop and just alternates through school and commission jobs and back again. He's never had a relationship that I know about, except for the one with prescription meds that he just thinks I don't know about. His fucking freshman year isn't even over and he's had two near-breakdowns."

"He's okay," Roxy said softly. "He is. He's not you, or me. Rosie's the same. They want a handful of people to love and trust and that's enough for them. He works non-stop because he's doing something he wants to do non-stop, just like you did from your second album right until the end," she continued, reaching across the table to stroke the back of his hand. 

"So what about the meds and breakdowns?"

"What about your entire Senior year?" 

"Except that I wasn't happy for my entire Senior year," Dirk said. 

"A year later?"

"I was in Texas."

"And happy?"

"Happier."

"He's fine," Roxy said, withdrawing her hand. "You didn't fuck him up, Dirk. He's happy."

"What if twenty years from now, he's sitting in a Tim Hortons in Potsdam with Rose, talking about how he was so fucking unhappy because of all the expectations people had for him?" Dirk asked. 

"Unless you're counting the single month he went full boy-child terror and we had to throw him in the shower half asleep to get him clean, he's never had to do anything he didn't want to do. His potential future unhappiness isn't a reflection on you repeating the mistakes of our parents. They did what they thought was right, we did what we thought was right, and maybe one day Dave will do what he thinks is right," Roxy said. "He's never felt what you felt, and that's got to count for something, right?" 

Dirk fell silent. He didn't have a response for his sister and instead he just focused on finishing his food, working his way through hash browns, pancakes, and bacon, before draining the rest of his coffee. His eyes wandered across the near-empty restaurant and fell on the swinging door that lead through to the bathrooms. 

"You think they ever paint the stalls in here?"

"Why, you think your graffiti is still there?"

"It'll be worth something if it is," Dirk said. 

"Go find out."

"You go and I'll pay for everything, including sundaes."

"Make it cheesecake and I'll do it," Roxy said, sliding out from her side of the booth. She walked past the empty tables and across the room, and let the bathroom door swing shut behind her. 

Dirk flagged down the bored teenage waitress once his sister was out of sight and ordered their desserts. He flipped his phone right way up on the table and sent a message, turning it over again when he was finished typing. 

"Anything?"

"A fresh coat of Denny's finest blue paint on every wall," Roxy said, sitting back down across from her brother. 

"Damn." 

"So, dessert then home for a good old fashioned sneak in before anyone realises we were gone?" 

"Yeah," he agreed with a soft snort of laughter.

Dirk heard his phone vibrate across the table and picked it up; he hadn't been expecting a reply until morning. 

TT: You like me enough that if you ever have a kid, I'll be allowed to see it, right?   
TG: yeah me and dirk 2 electric boogaloo will visit every weekend in my private rich guy jet

+++

"Oh, for," Kanaya mumbled, clicking her tongue. She reached for her scissors and snipped the tangled thread loose, successfully rescuing the dress before her sewing machine damaged it beyond repair. 

It took a few minutes of fiddling with bobbins and needles but she just re-threaded the machine and kept going. She had no choice. 

It was prom season again. Already. 

She'd first started the Etsy store as a way to help cover costs. Her visa was limiting in what she could do to earn money, so the online store made sense. As long as it was linked to her U.K. bank account, it didn't matter where she shipped from. 

She'd started small, taking on a commission or two at a time. But things had moved quickly as word started to get out, steadily growing until prom season came around the previous year. 

Her store had been inundated with orders. 

The second time around, she was more prepared. There were only fifteen slots available from the beginning of March to the mid-May, although she'd taken on an extra three commissions for some of her favourite, repeat customers. 

"Do you need any assistance?"

Kanaya stopped feeding the material through her machine and reached up to remove the pins from between her lips. 

"Not with this, no. I'm afraid my poor sewing machine is near death, it's been tangling threads for weeks and I do _not_ need that headache right now," she explained.

"It does do a tremendous job," Rose quipped. She closed her laptop and stood up from where she had been hunched over the coffee table for the last three hours, her knees cracking as she did. "What would you like to eat? I can microwave something, or I can go out and pick something up." 

"The latter, please. We both know you and the microwave don't tend to get along," Kanaya said. She looked up at Rose and smiled before turning back to inspect the seam she had just finished. 

"Rude."

"But true." 

"Oh, undoubtedly. Pizza?"

"Alright. Have it delivered," Kanaya suggested. 

"Any kind in particular?"

"No, whatever you want." 

She flipped the fabric over as Rose walked past to find her cell phone; she wanted to get started on the skirt before the pizza arrived. 

Two dresses left and three days to complete them.

Over the noise of her sewing machine and _Game of Thrones_ playing on the TV, Kanaya heard the sink start running in the kitchen. She appreciated the effort on Rose's part, but knew she would probably have to inspect the supposedly clean lunch dishes herself after they were dry - Rose was, despite her many talents, entirely incompetent around the house. 

Her uncle was the only accomplished cook in the family. Rose had never understood why, but he'd taught himself how to cook very well, very early on. Her mother could cook to a reasonable standard when provided with recipes, and had always kept the house clean enough with help from the others. Even her brother, Dave, was a better cook than her. He knew a handful of recipes by heart and how to improve pre-packaged foods. He also knew, for the most part, how to hang his towels after using them and to put his dirty underwear in the vicinity of the laundry basket. 

"You have a class in the morning," Rose said. She carefully placed a freshly brewed mug of tea on Kanaya's sewing table and pulled up a chair for herself. 

Kanaya watched as she sat down and lifted her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. 

"I know. It will, unfortunately, cut into my work time," she said. 

"You have a few days left, I'm sure you'll find the time," Rose said. 

"I should hope so. How are you?" 

"Fine."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Maybe a little."

Kanaya flipped the fabric right side out and shook off the loose threads it had picked up along the way. It needed a zipper, but she needed to finish the skirt before she could put that in place. She folded the bodice and set it down on her table and swapped it out for the mug Rose had brought over. 

"A little?"

"Only a little. I've made it to three days," Rose said with a weak smile. "So while on one hand that is a very, very good thing, on the other I feel it's only a matter of time before I fail. But to a much lighter topic, and a more important one at that, what would you like to do this summer?"

"As in?" Kanaya asked. 

While it was always relieving to hear that Rose had managed another few days without a drink, the sudden subject change was deliberate and Kanaya didn't know why. 

"It's almost time for summer vacation," Rose clarified. "Were you planning to go home?"

"I haven't booked anything yet. Why?"

"I'm simply inquiring. My mother would like me to come home for a few weeks and I'm sure Dave will do the same, since he's going to be moving back into the dorms next school year. You are, of course, as welcome as always but whether or not you take up the offer depends on your ability to cope with my darling brother in his natural habitat," she went on, pulling her socks back up over her calves from where they had fallen to around her ankles. 

"Well that does sound like fun," Kanaya said, smiling over the rim of her mug. "I hadn't planned on going home, no."

"Never?"

"Of course not never, just not during the summer."

"When?" Rose asked.

"Perhaps Christmas. That would give us enough time to organise for you to join me," Kanaya said. She put her mug back down to rest on the sewing table and picked up her cell phone to check her messages. 

"Just for Christmas?"

"Or for as long as I'm home."

"What if you stay?" 

"Pardon?" Kanaya asked, abandoning her phone at Rose's question. 

"If you chose to stay, rather than coming back to America."

"I'd let you know if I was considering that."

"Are you sure that you're not already?" Rose asked, fiddling with a stray thread dangling from the hem of her pyjama shorts. "It feels as if your studies have very much taken a back seat and that your attendance in classes is a mere formality to keep your visa."

"Well," Kanaya started. She turned back to her table and picked up two of the skirt panels that she had cut out earlier that morning. "I am here as a student, after all." 

"But you don't enjoy it," Rose said. 

It was a statement, not a question. 

"I enjoy being here."

"But not your classes." 

"No. Not my classes," she admitted. 

"So what would you like to do about that?" Rose asked. She stretched out her legs, one at a time, wedging her toes between Kanaya's thigh and the chair she was sitting on. 

"I'd like to finish my degree in the appropriate amount of time and then decide what to do about visas. But for now, I have dresses to finish and I'm certain you have a word limit to meet."

"I do," Rose sighed, sliding down a little in her chair. "But I can't for the life of me decide where Zazzerpan goes next."

"Are you still stuck on that?"

"I have been for days."

"Then what were you doing all morning?"

"An essay," she sighed again. "It's almost done."

"Then back to Zazzerpan's conundrum?" Kanaya asked, turning to smile at Rose as she pinned the fabric panels together. 

"Indeed." 

Both girls looked up when there was a sudden knock at the door. 

"I'll get it," Rose said. She removed her toes from the edge of the other chair and stood up, pulling at the legs of her shorts to straighten them out. "Finish pinning that first and then we'll eat," she continued, squeezing Kanaya's shoulder as she walked past to collect the pizza from the door.

+++

Dirk looked up when he heard a small knock on his bedroom door. He thought about ignoring the noise and just hoping that the person on the other side would give up, but the house was full of people he could only vaguely remember existing and it could have been any one of them. 

The funeral had been hard, in more ways than one. He'd dressed for the occasion, in nice slacks and a button down shirt that had still been in a box from when he'd moved to San Diego. It had been Jake's idea to take the glasses, to let them out of retirement for a day or two, to help serve as some kind of coping mechanism. 

Little did Jake know, he hadn't taken the replicas. 

He'd taken the originals, that first pair of pointed shades that he'd bought back in 1986. He'd found them in a store at the mall and thought they were the coolest things he'd ever seen. He'd worn them almost exclusively until well into college, where they'd long since been accepted as an extension of him. They'd broken more than once and he'd fixed them every time, until finally he had them replicated in '92. 

It felt more appropriate to wear the original pair, the same glasses his father had so often threatened to snap in half but for some reason never had. 

So he stood there throughout the ceremony, not as the Dirk Strider his parents had known but as Di-Stri, the version of himself he'd always thought of as the better iteration of his consciousness. Roxy stood beside him, her arm linked through his; he didn't know why, couldn't tell who was comforting who. She only let go when she moved forward to say a few words; her relationship with their parents, while never strong, had been less strained than his. 

The house was full. There were people everywhere downstairs, people that he hadn't seen since the eighties and people who had been born well after he'd moved to Houston. So he'd made a cursory lap of the ground floor, but hadn't stayed for long. He'd taken a beer from the fridge and gone back up to his room.

It was just like his sixteenth birthday all over again, but with less neon. 

"Hey, little brother. Can I come in?"

"I'm too heavy to shimmy down the drainpipe these days," Dirk said. 

He listened as Roxy crept into the room and latched the door shut behind her, quietly, so no one else would hear where she'd gone. 

She walked around the bed and sat up on the dust-covered window seat, kicking off her stilettos before she tucked her legs up under her.

Dirk paused and watched as she looked from his glasses lying with their arms folded down, carefully lined up with the wood grain of his desk, to the tie hanging undone around his neck. 

"What're you doing up here?"

"I left a lot of shit behind," he said. "When I left." 

"God, don't even get me started on what I've found in my room," Roxy said with a soft snort of laughter. "How much do you think I'd get on eBay for a box of vintage tampons?"

"Jack shit."

"You gonna put it all back?"

"With me," Dirk said, pointing to one box on his bed. "To Dave," he said, indicating another. "He'll appreciate the value of this shit."

"He's nowhere near the size you were at his age," Roxy pointed out as Dirk threw a t-shirt emblazoned with a faded Batman logo on it into the 'Dave' pile. 

She had a point. While Dave had quickly caught up in terms of height and was now within just a few inches of his father, he was nowhere near as broad in the shoulders. He was, and always had been, slim and built for speed rather than strength. Dirk's old t-shirts would be at least two sizes two big on him. 

"You think that's gonna stop him? He's not going to pass up a legit vintage _Beastie Boys_ shirt, the word 'vintage' alone is worth a few hundred extra Instagram likes." 

"True. What's in the shoebox?"

"Photos. I'm taking those. Might pick out a couple to send to him, though."

Roxy stood up and moved to sit down on Dirk's bed; she sat up on his pillow, leaning back against the wall, and put the shoebox on her lap. 

"Any choice shots?"

"I haven't looked yet," he replied. "Jesus, remember this?" 

He held up a well-worn denim jacket that was fraying along almost every edge. He'd worn it almost every day for two years back in high school, but had left it behind when he moved away to college, because he knew there was no chance he'd need winter clothes in Houston. 

"Christ, look at it. There's no way you're getting that thing on now. Dave?"

"Dave," he agreed, shoving a hand into the front pocket. "Fuck me," he muttered, pulling out a rolled up paper bag from one of the pockets. "I bet I was looking for that at one stage." 

"What?" Roxy asked, looking up from the box of Dirk's old polaroids. 

"Catch," he said, tossing the bag over to his sister. She caught it a little awkwardly, and burst out laughing as soon as she folded back the paper. 

"You found your old weed stash? Nice, bro," she said, smiling as she rolled the bag up again and threw it back to him. "You?"

"Can't take it on a plane, so Dave it is."

"Responsible parenting."

"At least I know where it came from," he shrugged, returning the paper bag to the pocket of his old denim jacket. 

"Peixes?" 

"Where else?"

"Have you heard from her lately?" Roxy asked, turning her attention back to the box of photos. 

"About a month ago, same shit as usual," Dirk shrugged. 

He'd fallen out of contact with his best - and only - high school friend for years, until Facebook had happened. 

"When do you want to head out?" 

"As soon as we fucking can, for the love of fucking God," he said, a little desperately. "I need out, Rox, as soon as I'm finished packing this shit we're gone."

"Did you book everything you needed to book?"

"Car's booked from the airport for three this afternoon, flight back from JFK on Wednesday night, and I'll tell Dave I'm on my way when I hit the I-80," Dirk said. "Give him half an hour to peel himself away from his computer."

"That's generous. You have to say goodbye," Roxy said. 

"Says who?"

"Says me. You say goodbye, then we leave," she added, making it very clear that there was no way to argue against her terms. She replaced the lid of the shoebox and stood up again, working her feet back into her heels. "Here," she said, handing over four photos. "Give him these ones."

Dirk took the polaroids when she held them out, spreading them apart so he could see which ones she'd chosen. Two were of the pair of them, taken during a summer vacation when he was about fourteen. The other two were random picks, one of him after a game where he had a bloody nose and a black eye, and the other was from the day of his high school graduation. 

He was smiling in all four photos. 

"Good choices," he said, tossing the photos down beside the 'Dave' pile. "I'm sure he'll get a nice twelve page analytical blog post out of those."

"Seven pages on your hair alone," Roxy said, grinning as she walked past him back to the door. "We'll head out in an hour?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Don't try and pull some 'oh I said an hour but I really mean three' bullshit," he said, raising his voice enough that she could still hear him after she was already back out in the hallway.

+++

Leaving the house in Syracuse was different the second time around. The first time he'd left, not counting the times he'd run away only to come back again, he'd been heading to Texas. He'd packed everything he thought he'd need into his Camry and driven to Houston without giving a second thought about what he was leaving behind. 

As far as he was concerned at the time, it wasn't anything. 

He'd only seen his parents twice since that day. Firstly, at Roxy's wedding, and then at her graduation. He'd spoken to them a few times on the phone in the early years, when he was still in college, but never since then. 

This time, when he left, he stopped long enough to kiss his mother on the cheek. 

They both knew the next time he saw her would be at her own funeral. 

He tried not to think about it too hard.

With a final sigh and a nod of thanks to the night-shift security guard, he stopped his wheeled suitcase by the closed door and hitched the cardboard box up further under his arm so it could rest properly on his hip bone. 

One hand finally free, he reached up and knocked on the door. 

"It's open!"

Of course it was. 

Dirk turned the handle and used his toes to push the door open. 

Dave stared back at him, mouth gaping as he reached up onto his head and flipped a pair of sunglasses down over his eyes. 

"Hey, kiddo. Brought you some shit."

"What, you didn't think to call first?" Dave asked. "Shut the door."

Dirk watched as he instinctively saved his work twice before standing up to adjust the lighting in his room. Two lamps went on, followed by the ceiling light in the bathroom. Dave pulled on a shirt from the floor and reached out to take the box from under Dirk's arm without waiting for the instruction. 

"I forgot," Dirk said, setting the suitcase aside, in front of the open closet. "You eaten?"

"Yeah, I went down and grabbed some chicken or whatever it was tonight, I had to get back up here to finish this page I'm working on," Dave explained, sitting down cross-legged on his bed so Dirk could have the desk chair. 

"Commission?"

"Nah, I haven't taken any on since last week. It's John's birthday next Monday and I've got six pages left to do for his birthday comic, there's seventeen in total this year." 

"Solid effort."

"Yeah. So how was it?"

"Look, I'm gonna be real here for a minute," Dirk said seriously, scooting the chair closer to the edge of the bed. "I'm not gonna unload that shit on you because it's not your job to listen to it. I'll say it was a shit time, like I knew it would be, and that yeah, it was hard, but that's it. You've dealt with enough of your mom's shit, you don't need to deal with mine as well. Fair?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to call me out."

"What?"

"If I ever do anything that makes you never want to see me again, call me the fuck out, you hear?" Dirk said. "I mean it."

He watched as Dave opened his mouth to say something but clearly thought the better of it, closing it again almost immediately before shifting his face back into a deadpan expression. 

"So what's in the box?"


	7. [I18]: National Texting Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a week of text messages to read through.

**April, 2015**

[04-06-15]  
[1:43 PM]GT: Alright davey boy?  
[1:46 PM]TG: sup pops  
[1:47 PM]GT: Aren't you a laugh. I've got something wonderful i might be able to get my hands on if youre interested.  
[1:47 PM]TG: seems legit  
[1:47 PM]TG: shoot  
[1:48 PM]GT: One of our poor hawks died this morning  
[1:48 PM]TG: and you want to have a tiny little funeral for it  
[1:49 PM]GT: Not exactly no. But i might just be able to convince one of the vets to give me its skull after the autopsy if you think it might be worthy of a place in your splendid collection.  
[1:49 PM]TG: !!!!!!!  
[1:50 PM]GT: Is that a yes then?  
[1:50 PM]TG: youre my favourite parental figure  
[1:50 PM]TG: i mean it  
[1:51 PM]GT: Its just a skull  
[1:51 PM]TG: a bird skull  
[1:51 PM]TG: i fucking love birds  
[1:53 PM]GT: Ill see if i can round you up anything else while im at it. We had a meerkat strangle himself on something last week. The poor fellow might still be around in a freezer somewhere.  
[1:53 PM]TG: <3 <3 <3  
[8:31 PM]TG: first of all did you know bro was coming  
[8:31 PM]TG: and second of all why didnt you warn me bro was coming  
[8:31 PM]TG: i would have put a shirt on or something  
[8:35 PM]GT: Oh relax its nothing he hasnt seen before.  
[8:35 PM]TG: gross  
[8:36 PM]GT: Dont be crass. I meant that he quite literally raised you from an infant.  
[8:36 PM]TG: you didnt answer the question  
[8:36 PM]TG: did you know he was coming or not  
[8:38 PM]GT: …………………………  
[8:38 PM]TG: i take it back youre not my favorite never were never will be  
[8:39 PM]GT: The hawk died of a ginormous tumor. I can send you his skull once we deflesh it on thursday.  
[8:39 PM]TG: i lied youre the best  
[8:39 PM]TG: <3  
[8:39 PM]GT: Tell dirk ill ring him later  
[8:40 PM]TG: gay

[04-07-15]  
[11:21 AM]TT: Is Jake a citizen of the United States?  
[11:22 AM]TT: You're not getting married just to get your lady a Green Card.  
[11:22 AM]TT: And here I was under the impression you were on my side.  
[11:22 AM]TT: Hey, I'm always on your side Rose but rules be rules, yo.  
[11:23 AM]TT: Arbitrary rules, just like every other rule mom has ever enacted.  
[11:23 AM]TT: Just wait another few years. I'll buy you something nice.   
[11:24 AM]TT: I'd love a new toaster.  
[11:25 AM]TT: Consider it done.  
[12:48 PM]TT: For the record, he got permanent residency through work and it took him years to get around to filling out the citizenship paperwork.  
[12:48 PM]TT: Fuck.

[04-07-15]  
[10:34 AM]TG: hello cps id like to report a case of child abuse  
[10:34 AM]TG: my dad made me sleep on the floor  
[10:34 AM]TG: and then he woke me up at like nine  
[10:34 AM]TG: when my first class isnt until twelve  
[10:38 AM]GT: Im sorry but i cant help you.  
[10:38 AM]TG: what the fuck pops thats literally your job  
[10:39 AM]GT: Well im sorry mate but you should have thought a little harder before you sent your little sos out during morning tea.  
[10:39 AM]TG: that is some hellaciously flipped out logic  
[10:40 AM]GT: Try again after eleven.  
[11:01 AM]TG: hello cps id like to report a case of child abuse  
[11:01 AM]GT: Sorry back to work. You should have tried during my morning tea break.  
[11:01 AM]TG: ………………………  
[11:01 AM]TG: im tattling

[04-08-15]  
[3:41 PM]TT: Hey, are you planning on being home over the summer?  
[3:42 PM]TT: Yes.  
[3:42 PM]TT: When?  
[3:42 PM]TT: I don't know. When is Dave not going to be there?  
[3:43 PM]TT: Hilarious. The first half, most likely. We haven't booked dates but he's coming out here for about a month. Do you want to come too?  
[3:43 PM]TT: No, thank you. Why did you need to know if I was going to be at home?  
[3:44 PM]TT: Because no one knows what the fuck everyone else is doing. I'm not going anywhere, Dave's spending a month here and the rest of the time there, and your mom's going to be home for all but three weeks in July. At least, that's what I've managed to find out so far.  
[3:45 PM]TT: Thanks. Myself and Kanaya will probably go home for a few weeks.  
[3:45 PM]TT: Sounds rad, little lady. What else is up?  
[3:46 PM]TT: Very little. Finals are almost underway.  
[3:46 PM]TT: Good luck. Shout out if you need any help.  
[3:47 PM]TT: If I need to write any sicknasty raps, you'll be the first to know.

[04-09-16]  
[5:28 PM]GT: Guess what!!!!  
[5:28 PM]TG: someone got allocated bonus punctuation today  
[5:29 PM]GT: What?  
[5:29 PM]TG: nothing  
[5:29 PM]TG: what  
[5:30 PM]GT: Theres a package on its way to you as we speak.  
[5:30 PM]TG: oh my god  
[5:30 PM]TG: really  
[5:30 PM]GT: Really.  
[5:31 PM]TG: how do you send animal bones in the post anyway  
[5:32 PM]GT: You put them in a padded box and label it as a scientific specimen. Apparently we can sue the post office if they ruin our samples.  
[5:32 PM]TG: that sounds like bullshit  
[5:33 PM]GT: We can threaten to sue the post office if they ruin our samples.   
[5:33 PM]TG: sick  
[5:34 PM]GT: So theres an awesome assortment of bits and bobs in there that you should enjoy  
[5:34 PM]TG: the hawk skull  
[5:35 PM]GT: The hawk skull is most definitely included.  
[5:35 PM]TG: youre getting a hug when i get there  
[5:35 PM]TG: a real hug  
[5:35 PM]TG: ill mean it and everything  
[5:36 PM]GT: Im holding you to that one mate.  
[5:36 PM]TG: ugh im gonna put it on my computer so i can look at it every day

[04-10-15]  
[8:47 PM]TT: When you were a teenager, say, around our Dave's age. No, scrap that. When you were Dave's age, exactly, down to the hour, did you ever shave your legs?  
[8:49 PM]TT: Why did my idiot spawn shave his legs?  
[8:49 PM]TT: "For speed".  
[8:50 PM]TT: Valid. Let him be.  
[8:50 PM]TT: Seriously?  
[8:50 PM]TT: Aerodynamics is a pretty good reason.  
[8:51 PM]TT: What was your reason?  
[8:52 PM]TT: I'd be tacky as fuck to go to prom with unshaven legs. It would have drawn attention away from the dress I slaved over a machine for weeks to make.  
[9:38 PM]TT: You know I'm right.

[04-11-15]  
[6:43 PM]TG: okay but its so fucking cute  
[6:43 PM]TG: check it out  
[6:43 PM]TG: [cawcawmotherfuckers.jpg]  
[6:45 PM]GT: Fabulous. I take it that the package arrived all safe and sound?  
[6:45 PM]TG: ye  
[6:46 PM]TG: im gonna try and wear the other one  
[6:46 PM]TG: like on a necklace or something id do that  
[6:46 PM]TG: what is the other one anyway  
[6:48 PM]GT: A mouse.  
[6:48 PM]TG: seriously  
[6:49 PM]GT: Absolutely. We find a lot of them around the place and try to cull them when we see them.  
[6:49 PM]TG: kinda less cool but i can tell people it was like  
[6:49 PM]TG: a test subject that got eliminated from the program  
[6:50 PM]TG: for like  
[6:50 PM]TG: being too smart or something right  
[6:51 PM]GT: Im sure you could tell people anything and theyd believe you.  
[6:51 PM]TG: up high pops  
[6:51 PM]TG: thanks again  
[6:52 PM]GT: Not a problem!!!

[04-12-15]  
[7:11 PM]TT: How's the studying?  
[7:12 PM]TT: What must it be like having an ulterior motive behind every move you make?  
[7:12 PM]TT: Satisfying. Answer the question.  
[7:13 PM]TT: It's going fine, thank you for asking. I feel confident that I will ace every exam question and satisfactorily analyse the shit out of my set texts.  
[7:13 PM]TT: You sound sarcastic today. Are you sassing me?  
[7:13 PM]TT: What could you do about it if I was?  
[7:14 PM]TT: Be at Newark in six hours, Princeton in seven, and then dare you to sass me to my face.  
[7:14 PM]TT: The intimidating uncle routine works better in person.   
[7:15 PM]TT: I know, but it would take me seven hours to pull that off. It probably loses some of the impact if you're stuck waiting around for seven hours knowing what's coming.   
[7:15 PM]TT: I am fine.  
[7:15 PM]TT: And I sure do believe that.   
[7:15 PM]TT: You'll just have to visualize the grossly unnecessary eyeroll I made.  
[7:16 PM]TT: You are sassing me, aren't you?  
[7:16 PM]TT: I'd never.   
[7:16 PM]TT: Less sass, more pseudo-study.  
[7:17 PM]TT: My, my, look at the time. I'll have to go, I've got a study date.   
[7:17 PM]TT: See, that's the sincerity I was looking for.  
[7:17 PM]TT: Oh, how the tables have turned and the sass is now on the other foot.  
[7:17 PM]TT: My, my, look at the time. I'll have to go, I've got a real date.   
[7:18 PM]TT: As the kids say, 'ooh, burn'.

[04-13-15]  
[7:41 PM]GT: I just saw the comic book pages you made for your friends birthday! They look flipping fantastic!  
[7:41 PM]TG: hey thanks pops  
[7:41 PM]TG: whered you see em  
[7:42 PM]GT: Dirk showed me. I think they were on facebook.  
[7:42 PM]TG: hahaha nice  
[7:42 PM]TG: thats only part of the story  
[7:42 PM]TG: ive been doing it since we were like twelve and i just add pages every year  
[7:43 PM]TG: john was pretty cut up about some personal shit at the time  
[7:43 PM]TG: like he just lost the plot and went batshit for a while but the shit he was telling me was kinda cool  
[7:43 PM]TG: like his nightmares and shit  
[7:43 PM]TG: which were somehow based on dreams jade used to have or something  
[7:43 PM]TG: so i kinda ran with that and made him a comic where he was the hero  
[7:43 PM]TG: like cheesy inspirational shit or whatever  
[7:43 PM]TG: i was twelve so sue me  
[7:44 PM]TG: but then it got away from me like everything else ive ever done and i drew him like twenty pages for christmas and now i do more every christmas and birthday and shit  
[7:44 PM]TG: put all our friends in it and stuff  
[7:44 PM]TG: but yeah its totally lame but thanks for saying you like it  
[7:45 PM]GT: I dont think its lame at all mate.  
[7:45 PM]TG: thanks pops  
[7:45 PM]TG: tell dad i said hi  
[7:46 PM]GT: Will do  



	8. [I19]: Can we get McDonald's?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the kids aren't alright but they are adorable.

**December, 2003**

"Daaaaaad!" 

Dad had only been gone for a minute. He needed to go downstairs and stir the spaghetti sauce, he'd said. But in the minute he was gone, John had heard a loud thud from inside the bathroom and he didn't know what to do. 

He dropped his Game Boy Advance onto the carpet and scrambled to his feet. He ran to the top of the stairs and shouted over the bannister, cramming his face up against the railing for good measure. 

"Dad! Hurry!"

He heard the sounds of a wooden spoon tapping on the side of the pot, hurriedly, because even when his dad was in a rush he tried to keep the kitchen tidy. 

"What is it?" Dad asked, his head popping out into the living room.

"I think Jade fell down but you said I'm not allowed to go in the bathroom when it's her turn anymore," he shouted. 

"Go turn the shower off, John, I'm coming."

"But you said -"

"And now I'm saying go turn the shower off," Dad said calmly. 

John turned away from the stairs and ran back down the hall to the bathroom, kicking his sweater and Game Boy out of the doorway. 

"Jade, Dad says I can come in and I'm sorry!" John exclaimed, pushing the door open. "Jade?"

"Hi John," Jade said from the bottom of the bathtub. 

John felt his heart swell when he saw that Jade was okay. She looked sad and confused, but she was okay. He reached over her head and turned off the running water. 

"Did you slip over?" 

"I don't know," Jade sniffled. "You said a funny joke and I laughed and then you were in the bathroom." 

"Jade? Can I come in?"

"Uh huh."

John shuffled back and sat on the closed toilet when his dad appeared in the doorway. His dad would know what to do, he always did. 

"Now, what's happened here?"

"John said a funny joke and then I fell over," Jade explained. 

Dad knelt down beside the bathtub and leant over to turn the faucets back on; this time, though, he was filling the bath. John watched him roll his sleeves up above his elbows and pick up a jug from the edge of the tub. 

"Head back, let's get that shampoo out of your hair. That's it. Does anything hurt?"

"No," Jade said, tipping her head backwards so the water would pour away from her eyes. "My knee, but only a little bit."

"Well that doesn't sound bad! John," Dad said. "Would you mind picking out some clean pyjamas for Jade? I think the ones with the puppies are in the dryer downstairs."

"Okay," John said. If his dad needed him to get some of Jade's pyjamas, then that was what he had to do.

+++

"Are you still awake?" 

John was trying to whisper, just in case his dad was still patrolling the hallway outside their bedroom, but he needed to be loud enough that Jade could hear him from her bed. 

"Yeah. I can't sleep now."

He kicked back his sheets and slipped out into the night, creeping across the dark room and up into Jade's bed, picking up his Game Boy Advance on the way. He scrambled under the covers with her and together they wriggled halfway down the bed until they were safe and warm under a cocoon of blankets. 

When John turned the Game Boy on, the worm light came on as well, illuminating their small tent just enough to be able to see the screen. 

"I caught a Sableye," John said. He was lying on his stomach, elbows digging into the plush mattress, with Jade curled up on her side next to him. 

"Cool," Jade said, when he turned the screen towards her. 

"Yeah!"

"Shh!"

"Oh, yeah," he said, remembering that his dad was probably still outside. "Did you really fall over before when I said my joke?"

"I don't know," she replied, hugging a stuffed manatee tightly to her chest. "I think so."

"I think Dad's scared."

"Why?"

"Because he kept staring at you until bedtime. It was weird," John said. "Do you want a turn?"

"Nope," Jade said with a pout. "I'm so sleepy but I don't want to have more dreams." 

"What dreams?"

"The ones about the weird planet that's all gold and pretty! I like it, but it's always so, so sad," she explained through a yawn, trying to muffle it with the manatee. "The people there are so nice but they're fighting a war and they always lose. Sometimes you're there!"

"Wow!"

"Yeah, but you're always asleep because you always sleep more than me in real life," Jade went on. 

"Do not!"

"Do so! I sometimes sleep in the daytime but you sleep all night."

"Is it scary?" John asked. He let his elbows drop until he was lying with his chin on the mattress, his Game Boy abandoned in favour of talking about Jade's golden dreams. "Being all alone at night when you wake up?"

"Sometimes. But sometimes you talk in your sleep and sometimes I can hear Papa snoring really loud!" Jade giggled. "And I miss my Grandpa a lot but I know he's strong and brave and he always tells me that the night time is just the same as the day time except it's dark, so it's not scary." 

"I can be strong and brave," John said, as he curled up on his side with a yawn. "I can."

"Gold moon John is super brave," Jade whispered a few minutes later. "Mega brave."

+++

"John?" 

When John felt his dad sit down next to him, he tried to bury himself deeper in his blanket cocoon. With every wriggle he made, his glasses pressed harder into the bridge of his nose and eventually he stopped moving just so the pinching would cease. 

His dad was rubbing small circles on his back. It was nice, John thought. He was still warm and tired and so he curled up again to try and go back to sleep. 

"John, it's time to wake up."

"No it's not," he mumbled. 

"We've got a big day today," Dad said. "You're not going to school."

"What?" John asked, rolling over onto his back to look up at his dad. He had to be lying. It was a school day, he was sure of it - yesterday was only Thursday. "Is it a snow day?"

"Not quite," his dad laughed. "We have to take Jade to see the doctor today."

"Did she get hurt bad when she fell over yesterday?"

"No, she's okay. She just has to see the doctor. We made her an appointment weeks ago."

"Oh, okay. Can we have McDonald's?"

"Maybe later," Dad laughed, running a hand through John's cowlick to peel the hair back off his forehead. "Jade's downstairs watching cartoons. Do you want toast or cereal?"

"Cinnamon toast crunch, please," John said. "Do I have to get dressed?"

"Not yet. Jade's appointment isn't until this afternoon."

"And we get to stay home all day?"

"All day," Dad confirmed. "I thought we might go to the movies."

"On a school day?! Can we see _Elf_ again? Please, Dad, it was really funny!"

"Maybe. Now get downstairs and eat your breakfast."

John laughed as his dad picked him up and flipped him out of bed. His glasses almost fell off while he was upside down, but he just fixed them once he was safely back on the floor.

+++

"Can we go home now?"

John and Jade were sitting side by side in the McDonald's booth, post-movie, with Happy Meals and sundaes. Dad was sitting opposite them with just some fries, and a coffee. 

It had definitely been a long day. 

They'd been allowed to watch cartoons all morning. John and Jade had gone out to play in the yard while dad watched them from the kitchen. He'd made them some soup for lunch, which they'd slurped down before taking turns in the shower, more carefully than the night before. They'd gone to the movies to see _Elf_ for the second time since it had been released. Dad had dragged them through a handful of department stores before finally taking them to Jade's appointment. 

Dad seemed worried as the doctor looked over Jade, checking her eyes, her ears, and even her temperature. It was their normal doctor, John had realised. He felt a little bit better, even though his dad was telling the doctor about Jade falling over all the time, and how she needed so many naps at school now. 

The doctor looked at all the bruises on Jade's arms and legs and asked her to explain them all if she could. There was the one from where she'd fallen in the shower the night before, the bump on her head from falling at recess, the cut on her chin from where she'd fallen while running up the stairs after John. She couldn't remember them all. Only one was from where John had hit her in the arm, but she'd got him back so it was okay. 

Dad and the doctor had talked a lot more after that, but John wasn't listening. He and Jade were talking about what they wanted from McDonald's.

"We've got a lot more to do tonight," Dad said, putting his coffee back down on the table. 

"Like what?"

"Well," he started. John shoved a handful of fries into his mouth while he waited for his dad to keep talking. "We're staying in Seattle tonight. Jade's having a sleepover at the hospital."

"What?" John asked. "Why?"

Jade just shrugged and dunked another chicken nugget into her ketchup. 

"Papa says the doctor said I have to," she explained. "It's like a sleepover, John! You're allowed to stay, too!"

"But I have piano lessons tonight."

"Your teacher is going to come over on Sunday instead. It was very hard to arrange this appointment, John," Dad explained. "We can take videos to watch and games to play until bedtime."

"And then the doctor will know why Jade is so sleepy all the time and why she falls down?"

"That's exactly right."

"Hm," John said. "And we get to sleep there, too?"

"All night. And we get to stay tomorrow, too."

"But what if it's boring?"

"It's a sleepover, John, it won't be boring!" Jade exclaimed. "Our sleepovers at home aren't boring ever, and we can take everything from home to the hospital so it's fun there, too!"

"Jade's right,"Dad said, picking up his coffee. "Now let's hurry up and finish eating so we can go home and pack."

+++

"Is Jade okay?"

They had been at the hospital for almost a full twenty four hours, so Jade could have all her tests run at once. John was tired and he knew his dad was too, because every time he'd woken up through the night, dad was already awake. It had been hard enough for him to sleep, sharing a big, plush armchair with his dad, so he felt sorry for Jade trying to sleep with so many wires stuck to her head. 

That was why he was okay with her sitting right next to him in the car, sleeping on his shoulder for the drive home. 

Dad turned around from the front seat when he pulled up at the next red light.

"They don't know yet," he explained. "They've got a pretty good idea, but it's going to take the doctors some time to read all the information they got last night."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"She'll be just fine. She's probably always going to need a lot of naps, though."

"That's it?"

"She'll probably need to take some medicine, too. It'll stop her from feeling so sleepy when she can't take a nap."

"But she's okay?" John asked. 

"She's okay," Dad said, reassuringly. 

John felt the sickness in his stomach lift a little as the car started moving again.

Jade was okay. 

Everything was okay.


	9. [A5.2A5]: what do you mean by that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are shenanigans aplenty.

**April, 2015**

"Hey, so were you serious about fucking off over the summer?"

"What?"

"Like, last week you said some shit about fucking off for like a whole month or something," Dave clarified. "You actually gonna or what?"

He was lying on the floor of Karkat's bedroom, on his back, with his crossed ankles propped up on the edge of the bed. Paul was sitting on the carpet beside him, slowly working her way through the kale he'd picked up from the kitchen on his way through the apartment earlier. He hadn't visited her in almost ten days. With only weeks left before the end of the semester, he'd been too busy to find the time. 

He still had to finalise his plans for the next four months.

He knew he was going home, back upstate, for a big chunk of the break. He'd thought about staying on for a summer semester just to keep his room, but after a long series of meetings with the head of accommodation services and a representative from the assistance office, they'd come to an agreement where he would be given the same dorm room for the next school year. The argument was that the college had already spent the money installing the blackout blinds in his room, and if he was placed in a different room, they'd just have to cover that cost again. In the end, it was decided that he would be allocated the same dorm room for the next academic year, and that the room would be taken off the allocation roster for the summer semester. 

That felt like a win.

It even had the added bonus of him not needing to pack everything - he'd only need to take what he wanted for the break.

There was a confirmed trip to California booked in at some point. He wasn't looking forward to the weather, but spending an entire month out in San Diego was going to be a riot. His mom and sister were both going to be at home upstate, so there would always be someone around to look after Paul; he'd never planned to leave her alone with Karkat for months on end.

But other than a few weeks out west, he had no plans. His mom had said something about the Egberts _maybe_ coming to stay, but that was still up in the air. 

There was a whole summer, a whole College-length summer, to fill. 

"I'm not 'fucking off'," Karkat grunted from up on his bed. "I'm going to Toronto."

"Exactly, you're fucking off to Canada," Dave said. "Like for real?"

"Yeah, for real. I bought a flight last week."

"I thought you said you were thinking about buying flights."

"No, I said I bought a flight."

"So I wasn't listening," Dave shrugged. He rolled over onto his stomach and folded his arms, resting his chin on them so he could watch Paul from the right way up for a while. "What's new?"

"Fucking nothing," Karkat muttered. "Mid-May to probably mid-June." 

"Cool, so I'll go and see Bro then and you can get the train back, spend like a week at Mom's house."

"Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

"Because I fuckin' guaruntee you bro, after a month of not seeing me you're gonna have some nasty-ass withdrawals."

Dave had an entire series of arguments ready to go, but as soon as Karkat started to reply, he knew it was useless. Instead of the witty quip that he had been waiting for ten minutes to use, all he could do was just groaned into the carpet. 

The reply had come not in English, but in Urdu, and that only meant one thing. 

He'd lost his English privileges for at least three days. 

"Oh, come the fuck on, as if that's fair," Dave whined. He pushed up off the carpet and moved to sit cross-legged with his back leaning against the side of the bed. Paul cocked her head at him and started crawling up onto his ankles. "I didn't even say anything to deserve it this time."

There was no point in trying to carry on a conversation once Karkat had decided that English was off the cards, because he wouldn't get a reply he could understand. He'd picked up a few words over the last year or so, but nothing that would help him hold a conversation. 

The best thing to do, he'd realised, was to run what he wanted to say through Google Translate and then copy and paste the resulting grammatically incorrect script into Karkat's chat window. He knew the translation was wrong, and he knew that Karkat flew right off the handle trying to translate from broken Urdu, into correct Urdu, into English, and then finally into the Dave Lalonde dialect of standard, if backwaters of Upstate New York, American English.

"Okay, whatever," he went on, talking to himself. "We both know that I'm right, like for real. Fuck off, Dave, he says like six times a week, but what he really means is no, Dave, don't fuck off because my best friend is preoccupied with his terrifying but super cool girlfriend and trying to not get thrown in prison, so I have no one else to put up with my horseshit."

Instead of getting into what would no doubt devolve into a petty, bilingual argument if he didn't just give up, Dave pulled out his phone to see if John had checked his messages yet - he'd made the comic pages live just before leaving for Karkat's place for the night. 

Still unread. 

There was, however, a message from Karkat in their group chat telling everyone that Dave had lost English privileges until Thursday, which meant his inbox was about to be hit with broken languages for the next three days - other than Karkat himself, Terezi was the only one fluent in anything beyond a tenth grade education. Jade was a close second, able to manage a conversation in about six languages, but she was rarely online in time to play the game. John would go out of his way to find the most obscure languages Google Translate had to offer, or just write everything in Wingdings. 

He flicked around his phone for a while until Karkat's mom called out to let them know that dinner was ready. He thought about taking Paul up to the table with him, but that felt like poor form in someone else's house. Instead, he picked her up from his knee and set her back down in her tank, but not before kissing her head a few times.

When Karkat said something and scoffed, Dave flipped him off as they walked out of the bedroom together. 

It was just the three of them for dinner. Karkat's dad was still at work and probably would be until eleven or twelve, and his mom tended to swap between languages at home anyway so she wouldn't notice Dave being language-blocked. 

He always missed his own mom a little more at the Vantas house. Meeting Karkat's parents for the first time had been a surprise, because they were so calm and loving to everyone, but especially each other; Dave had no clue how they'd managed to produce both Karkat and Kankri. It was interesting to him, to see just how different the Vantas's had become in just a generation. He knew it was only so intriguing because his own family were all so similar, in looks and in habit, but it was fascinating nonetheless. 

The dinners were, unsurprisingly, much better than anything that had ever been cooked by his own mom.

Not that he'd tell her that.

Karkat said something then, sharp and irritated, because Dave had been ignoring the Urdu that was being spoken around him.

He snorted into his biriyani when Karkat's mom slapped his shoulder for being rude.

+++

As soon as John stepped outside the academic building, he fished around in his coat pocket for his phone. He had a message from his dad, wishing him a happy birthday and another stating just how proud he was. John beamed to himself as he sidestepped the few kids who were sitting on the cement stairs and made his way out onto the sidewalk. 

There were other messages for him to read, including a lot of Facebook alerts from his old and new friends from high school and college. There was one from Karkat, one from Rose, and a whole lot of others in the large group chat they were all in. He laughed out loud when he got to the Pesterchum window he shared with Jade, because she'd managed to convince her grandpa to let her go all the way into town to find free wifi - he didn't even know what country she was in anymore. She'd hitched a ride with a villager heading to the markets before it was even light out just so she could message him on his actual birthday. 

He'd kept Dave's window for last, because he knew exactly what he was going to find there. 

More comic pages. 

Those he was going to save, to read once he was back in his dorm. 

He was supposed to meet his dad for dinner, but it was only four o'clock and Dad wasn't going to leave the office for at least another three hours. He stood at the bus stop, headphones clamped down over his ears, scrolling through the list of movies screening at the nearest cinema. 

Just when he was getting frustrated by the lack of films out that he hadn't already seen, his phone flashed up a new alert.

It was a message from Vriska.

AG: Are you done with your dum8 pr8cticing yet 8ecause I'm so fucking 8ored at work.  
AG: Also happy 8irthday I guess.   
GT: are you done with your whiny baby whining for whiny babies?   
AG: ::::(    
GT: isn't now when it gets busy for you because everyone is starting to go home?   
AG: For the store, sure, I guess. 8ut for me?  
AG: I guess I just lucked out.  
AG: Come and visit me.   
GT: i have stuff to do before i meet dad though :/    
AG: Joooooooohn!!!!!!!!   
GT: :O    
AG: I have a birthday present for you, dumbass!   
GT: hmmm. i'll think about it.  
GT: :P

He had time. Being in public with Vriska was always the safest option. She was always wary of her audience and knew exactly what she could and couldn't get away with; she'd learnt that there was no way she could get away with anything mushy in public. He sent her another message - that he was on the bus - and flicked over to the Google Translate app. 

It took until he was within three stops of Vriska's store to finish typing out his message to Dave. He'd gone for Welsh this time, because he hadn't used that before and he thought Dave might get a kick out of trying to pronounce some of the words. He copied the message over and sent it via Pesterchum, skipped to the next track on Spotify, and put his phone back into his pocket. 

"Joooooooohn!"

"Hey, Vriska," he said, waving back when he walked into the Starbucks store. He dragged his headphones down to rest around his neck. "When do you finish?" 

"At close. Do you want a drink? I'll make you one, it's cool," she said, leaning forward with her elbows on the countertop. 

She might have been a pain sometimes, but she was still one of his best friends.

"Uhhh, yeah?" John said slowly. "Like a hot chocolate or something?"

"What flavor?"

"Chocolate?"

"No, what flavor do you want in the hot chocolate?"

"Oh, vanilla?"

"That's boring and I don't know why I even asked you," she said, rolling her eyes as she punched the order into the register. "You can have cinnamon."

"Can I have none?"

"What?" Vriska asked. 

John was sure that she was only pretending that she hadn't heard him. He frowned a little but took his phone out to see if Dave had replied yet. He hadn't, but it was almost seven thirty in New York, so he was probably doing something else. 

He wandered over to one of the tables by the window, because every time he waited at the counter for his drinks, Vriska would just tell him to stop being stupid and that she could manage to walk over whatever he'd ordered. He lifted his headphones back up, resting the left half of the set behind his ear so he could still hear what was happening in the store. 

John took out his laptop but as soon as he was connected to the Starbucks Wi-Fi, Vriska appeared opposite him at the table with his hot chocolate and a slice of banana bread. 

"Happy birthday," she said, sliding the food across the table. 

"Thanks, but I can't eat that," he said, pushing the plate of banana bread back towards her. "I kind of don't want to die on my birthday or anything."

"It doesn't even have peanuts in it," Vriska said. 

"Yeah, but I can see all the other nuts from here and I might not die straight away but I'll get really sick and that's kind of the same thing," John explained, picking up the hot chocolate. Vriska frowned at him so he just frowned back, then twisted the expression into a huge grin. "Oh c'mon, you don't really want me to _die on my birthday_ , do you?"

"Take it home for tomorrow then," she suggested.

"You know I'll still be allergic tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay good," he said. "Now shoo."

"Did you just shoo me?" Vriska asked indignantly. "Me?"

"Yeah. I have a paper to finish," he said. "See, I have my laptop out and everything. And besides, you're still working."

"Literally no one cares that I'm working, John," she said, with another roll of her eyes. "But fine, if you insist."

She tugged at her hair, trying to straighten out the mess of a bun she had going on, then stood up and huffed her way back across the cafe. 

John giggled to himself as she went; she was just so dramatic all the time, he couldn't help it. He lifted the left headphone up and moved it back over his ear, and got to work. 

He had a paper due at the end of the week. It was the last assignment for one of his humanities classes and he wanted to get it done as soon as possible, so he would have more rehearsal time for his practical exam. He'd done most of the preparation over the weekend and just had to put everything together. That was the hard part. He knew what he wanted to say but he kept going off on tangents, eventually making his way back to the point after he was well over the word limit. 

He was rereading his second paragraph when Vriska walked back over and put a second hot chocolate in a takeout cup down in front of him. 

"You're leaving soon, right?"

"Yeah, it's been like an hour," he said. "Thanks."

"Cool, I get my break soon so this is your five minute warning," Vriska said with a grin, spinning on her heel to walk back over to the counter again. 

John watched as she disappeared out into the back room. As soon as she was out of view, he threw his backpack strap over one shoulder, tucked his laptop under his arm, and snatched up the hot chocolate. He hurried out of the Starbucks, still carrying everything awkwardly, and speed walked down the block to the bus stop he knew was around the corner. 

He already had a message from Vriska by the time he stopped to put his laptop back into his bag. 

AG: ????????   
GT: dad pulled up outside so i had to go!  
GT: sorry!

He wanted to feel bad for lying, but he couldn't figure out why.

There were eight minutes until the next bus. 

"Fuck you, Vriska," he frowned to himself.

+++

Refusing to speak to Dave in English was always a decision that came back to bite him in the ass. While on one hand it drove Dave up the wall and slowed down how much bullshit he was able to process in a day, on the other, Karkat only ever caused himself more problems than he solved. 

Dave knew when he was being sworn at, or when he was being told to shut up, but beyond that he was mostly clueless. So no matter how many times Karkat told him to put his damn phone away, or to just go the fuck to sleep, Dave continued to scroll through posts on his phone, laughing and mumbling to himself in the dark. 

In the end, he rolled over and picked up his own phone, typing out a message in Urdu to send to Dave since he couldn't translate a verbal beat down. 

It took less than a minute for Dave to run the Pesterlog through Google Translate. 

"Shit, dude, I was keeping you awake? Look, I'd apologise and everything and I'd make it sound totally genuine, but you don't know how to English right now so what the fuck is the point, right?" Dave asked. 

He didn't put his phone away. 

"It's not even late, it's only like ten thirty or something but no, early classes mean early to bed because you wouldn't want to be tired in the morning, would you? But it's not like you don't stay up until like two on a regular basis or anything and I don't remember the last time I went to bed this early, even though it was probably like two weeks ago when I had that headache. Does it count if I've spent most of the day sleeping anyway though? Like, do I count being in a codeine-induced daze as going to bed early?"

Karkat just swore at him. He could understand that much. 

"Oh, shit, look at that. A text in English, fucking incredible," Dave went on. "Oh, it's Pops, no wonder. He's not in on all this bullshit, is he?. Hey, he saw John's comic pages, cool."

Karkat just turned over again so his back was facing Dave, and tried to ignore him mumbling out his replies as he typed them. 

Suddenly, Dave burst out laughing and finally put his phone up on the window ledge, followed by his glasses. 

"English text, get it? Pops is an English, right? Like, that's his name and where he's from. That's fucking hilarious, dude," Dave snorted. "Fucking English text. That's like a six layer joke or something right there, fucking incredi - oh, shit, fuck!"

Before Dave could finish making his inane point, Karkat had turned over and thrust an arm out in order to shove Dave's face into the wall. He just pressed harder when Dave tried to fight back by worming his way down and out of arm's reach.

"What did I even do, bro?"

Dave managed to turn over, slipping his head free long enough to shift completely. With his back braced against the wall, Karkat realised that he was at the advantage and had to quickly reassess his own plan of action. He grabbed the edge of the comforter and threw it up over Dave's face but that only worked for a few seconds, until Dave broke free and ended up sitting in the top corner of the bed, on his pillow. He had two walls behind him to help him push forward in whatever direction would be most advantageous. 

He was too fast. 

Karkat snarled and tried to work out his next move, but when he shuffled backwards, he realised his mistake far too late. 

He was a foot further down the bed that he'd thought he was. 

When he hit the floor, tangled up in both the blanket and the comforter, he knew there was no way he was coming back from that.

"Oh, holy shit dude, that was fucking incredible," Dave laughed, letting his guard down when he realised that he wasn't about to get hit again. 

Karkat scowled from his place on the floor when Dave flopped down on his stomach, hanging his arms and head over the edge of the bed to look down at him. 

"You okay, dude?"

He just raised a hand up out from under the blanket and flipped the bird in what he hoped was the right direction. 

"Look, if you just used your words we wouldn't be in this mess, that's what all the cool kids do. At least, I think they do because I see them at school sometimes, from afar, you know? I'm not allowed to join in on account of being a total hick loser from Upstate and all but I'm pretty sure they use their words," Dave said, still hanging off the edge of the bed. "But like," he went on. "Some of them are doing painting and classic art and shit and I guess we all kind of rely on our hands being functional to a pretty high degree. I'm just lucky that when I fucked up my arm, remember when I fucked up my arm so bad they put those screws in my elbow? Yeah, I was pretty lucky it was my right arm because my left is totally the moneymaker right now. So, are you just gonna stay down there or?"

Dave reached out a hand as a kind of peace offering, but as soon as Karkat grabbed on he pulled, hard, intending to drag Dave down onto the floor as well. 

It worked in that Dave did end up on the floor, but he didn't just fall in a heap. He caught enough of his balance on the way down to do some kind of somersault, landing on the edge of the comforter. Karkat tried to dodge the impact, but Dave jumped forward and trapped him under the blanket.

"Okay, that's it, fuck off!"

"Holy shit, he speaks," Dave said, laughing hard. 

Karkat was flailing from underneath the blanket. He'd somehow ended up more tangled than he thought he was, and Dave's attempt to smother him into losing the fight was working. He tried to tear himself free but one of Dave's knees pinned his right arm to the floor, leaving him to fight back with just his left. 

"Get the fuck off me!"

"No way, man, we're entrenched in this shit."

"Stop fucking quoting your own garbage dump of a comic series at me!"

"Aw, shit, you still read Sweet Bro? Lame, not even I read that anymore, not even to proof read it," Dave said, managing to get in a slap through the blanket. 

"You're gonna fucking get it!" Karkat hissed. "You're dead, you're so fucking dead. Are you ready?"

As soon as Karkat dove forward, catching Dave off guard long enough to shove him to the floor, his bedroom door flew open. 

Dave yelped in pain as the light from the hallway filled the room. Karkat let out a cry of victory but was cut short when his father suddenly spoke.

"What on Earth is going on?"

"Shit, sorry, Dad," he apologised, standing up from under the mess of blankets. "Mom said you were working until midnight."

"Things change. What are you doing?"

"Uh, you know," he said sheepishly. 

"Shenanigans," Dave supplied. He had his left arm up, covering his face, to block the worst of the light from hitting his eyes. "Sorry, we'll keep it down," he added, awkwardly getting to his feet while disentangling himself from the blankets with his one free hand. "So. How was work?"

"Fine thank you, Dave. You both have morning classes?"

"Yeah," Karkat said, helping Dave straighten out the comforter. "We're leaving at seven thirty. Mom already made us breakfast to put in the microwave." 

"Good, good. Don't stay awake too long." 

They were both silent as his dad swung the door closed again. Karkat kicked at the back of Dave's knee to get him moving and eventually he did, climbing up and over to the far side of the bed. 

"That was fucking pathetic," Karkat muttered a few minutes later. He was settled back down on his half of the mattress, his back to Dave once again. 

"You sound surprised," Dave said. His reply was muffled by his pillow; he was lying face down and hadn't even bothered turning his head so he could breathe properly. "Like we're not fucking pathetic all day every day or anything," he went on, clearer than before. 

Karkat snorted. 

He could hear shuffling again, and the dull light from over his shoulder was enough to indicate that Dave was doing something on his phone. Then, suddenly, _Intergalactic_ was playing through the single bud that had been shoved into his left ear.

The Beastie Boys weren't exactly soothing. 

At least, he didn't think so. 

Dave, on the other hand, was out less than two tracks later.

+++

"Oh, no, sweetheart, you're going to _really_ regret that if you're not careful," she said, lazily opening one eye to keep watch on the situation. 

It was precarious, to say the least. She knew that things could go wrong at any moment, and that when they did, the outcome wouldn't be pretty. It was her own fault, if she were to admit to it, but there was no one around to call her out on her mistakes - especially considering that she should have known better. 

She hadn't closed the ensuite door and now Mutie was slowly walking along the edge of her bathtub. 

With each cautious step the cat took, Roxy grew more concerned for the both of them. The poor creature was blind in one eye and only had about fifty percent vision in the other, so every time he lifted a paw to edge forward, closer to her face, she grew more convinced that he was going to end up in the tub with her. 

"Okay, my poor heart is too old for this, now shoo," she said, nudging Mutie roughly until he jumped down onto the tiled floor. She sat up properly in the water and fumbled around for the plug to start draining the water. When she stepped out of the bath, Mutie immediately rubbed up against her damp legs, covering her calves in shed hair. 

Roxy sighed. 

She dried off and pulled on her fluffy robe - the one she had picked out at WalMart after Rose told her it was hideous - then tied the equally hideous belt firmly around her waist. 

Not that it mattered, she was home alone. 

Again.

"Okay, you. Come with Momma and let's get something to drink," she said, scooping up Mutie in her arms as she walked out of the ensuite. He resisted her grip at first, fighting to get free until she was out of her bedroom and halfway down the stairs, but Roxy held on tightly to the only one she had left with her in the house. 

It had been a long few days. She was in the middle of writing another paper, one that was due by the end of the month. She had two weeks left to finish consolidating her research and she felt like she was running out of time. She had a nice break coming up over the summer where she would have no ongoing research, no business trips for almost two months, and no new projects until mid-July. 

But before all that, she had to finish her paper by the publishing deadline. 

She was working long days, but she was working from home. It meant she could wake up late and go to bed early, she could take all the breaks, and she could take hour long baths every night of the week if she wanted to, so she had been doing just that. 

The paper was an analysis of the practical application of everything her department had been working on for a year. The job should have been given to someone below her, but they were all too busy with setting up the next stage of research. The company had promised her a summer off from travelling back and forth to Europe - not that it was much of a loss for them, the colleges she usually spoke at were closed over the break anyway. They weren't losing anything by giving her time off from lecturing. 

She had a few collaborative papers to help fill the time, though. 

"So," she said, littering kisses all over Mutie's head before she put him down on the kitchen table. "We can have soda, or we can have tea, or we can have tonic without the gin, or we could even have water. But that would be _such_ a boring option it's hardly a choice at all. There's some of Rosie's fancy schmancy tea in the back of the cupboard here, this one's cocoa something. That could be nice, what do you think?" Roxy asked, taking the box down from the shelf without waiting for a reply. 

She looked suspiciously down the spout of the electric kettle. She hadn't used it in a while, so she rinsed it out well before she put it on to boil. 

"Do you want one?"

Mutie meowed in response. 

"Oh, fine, be that way," Roxy said, clicking her tongue as she searched through one of the drawers for a tea strainer. "What time is it? It's… eleven here, so it's nine in Seattle, so it's too early to call," she added with a sigh. "Tell me why I do this to myself, sweetheart. Tell me that," she said, taking out a mug that Dave had decorated in his third grade art class.

Mutie meowed again. 

"Oh, don't you start. I'll give him another hour. It's Johnny's _birthday_ you know, of course he's going to be late home from work. Johnny's nineteen, can you believe that? _Nineteen_. Now I've got two that are nineteen, well, three if we're broad about categorising them as mine, and one that's still eighteen. That sure happened quick sticks, didn't it?" 

She filled Dave's mug with freshly boiled water once the kettle finished, and topped off the tea with a generous splash of almond milk. It was a few minutes until she had to remove the strainer, so she put the milk away and went around switching off the downstairs lights in the meantime. 

With her tea in one hand and Mutie in the other, Roxy made her way back upstairs into her bedroom. She dropped the cat onto her covers and crawled underneath the blankets, switching on her TV to load up Netflix. 

"So, what should we watch?" 

Mutie just purred when she scratched him between the ears; her hand was still warm from carrying her tea upstairs. 

"What's that? _Return of the King_? I think so too," she said. 

As the movie started playing, she checked her phone to see if she'd missed anything important in the meantime. A few work emails and alerts that could wait until the morning, a message from Rose, and a text. 

She opened the text first. 

He was on his way home now and would call as soon as he made it safely back to Maple Valley. 

She could hardly wait until they came to visit. 

If nothing else, it was going to be nice to have the house full of life again.

+++

"Bye, Dad!"

John slammed the car door shut and leant down to make sure his dad saw one final grin before he drove away. 

They'd had a great night. Dad had taken him to a burger place, at his request, and they had spent the whole time talking about everything that had happened that week. It was always great when he got to see his dad in the city, even though he'd just been home over the weekend. 

Besides, it was his birthday, so it was kind of a big deal. 

Even that argument wasn't enough to convince his dad to just pick up his burger though, so John had laughed his way through watching Dad eat his dinner with a knife and fork.

In between bites, Dad told him all about how things were going at the office and that he'd managed to take some of his paid leave for during the summer. It's part of your gift, he explained. John had been confused at first, until his dad elaborated a little more. 

He was taking three of his paid leave weeks in July so they could travel to upstate New York together. 

John had spent the rest of the meal bouncing in his seat, because the rest of his gift - a bunch of movie tickets, a pack of fake moustaches, and a huge box of assorted cookies - was great, but it couldn't live up to spending three weeks at Dave's house. 

He wasn't allowed to say anything yet, Dad had told him. Roxy was going to tell Dave sometime in the next day or two. John had made a big show of zipping his lips, but his fingers kept twitching towards his phone as if they didn't want him to keep what was possibly the best secret ever. 

John waved again, and his dad waved back before finally pulling out from the curb. He waited until the sedan turned the corner and was out of sight before finally deciding to get inside and out of the cool night air. He fumbled for his keys on his way up the stairs, because the box of cookies was so big that it was awkward to hold. 

His grin faltered when he stepped out of the stairwell onto his dorm floor. 

Vriska was sitting on the ground outside his door. 

"I got fries but they're cold and gross now," she said, holding up the crumpled McDonald's bag from her lap. "Your dad didn't pick you up earlier, did he?"

"No," John admitted. "You wanna come in?"

"It's okay," Vriska said, standing up slowly from the floor. "I just wanted to bring you the fries. And a soda, but I got thirsty and drank it in the car. Happy birthday, John."

"Hey, are you sure you don't wanna come in? Dad made me loads of cookies, you could take some home and everything," John said, turning his key in the lock. He peered into the room before swinging the door wide open. "Hey, no roommate! We can watch Netflix without headphones!"

"Really, John?" Vriska asked, raising a curious eyebrow over her bad eye. "Come in and watch Netflix?"

"Yeah, I kinda want to watch all of the _Iron Man_ movies," he said, setting the box down on his desk. "Or like, as many of them as I can before I want to go to bed."

"Make it _The Avengers_ and I'm in," she said, letting the door click shut behind her. 

" _Fine_ ," John said, in his best imitation of Vriska's exasperated whine. "Do you want a cookie? There's chocolate chip, double chocolate, oatmeal and raisin, gingerbread, sugar cookies, oreos, snickerdoodles, aaaand white chocolate chip," he listed. 

"Maybe later," she said, taking her coat off and throwing it down onto the floor at the end of John's bed, along with her bag. 

He grinned and passed her the box once she sat down on his bed, sideways, so she was leaning back against the wall. He hung his hoodie over the back of his desk chair and kicked off his sneakers, sitting down beside her with his laptop. 

It took a few minutes to get everything set up. He had to set Pesterchum to idle and close out a few other programs before loading a new Chrome window. He set the film to full screen and shifted so that he was sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest. He put his chin down on his knees and reached for a snickerdoodle.

Beside him, Vriska was sitting with her legs out in front of her, her calves hanging off the edge of the bed. 

She wasn't awful, not really; she was just kind of trapped by everyone thinking she was. 

"Hey, John?" Vriska said, unexpectedly. 

The movie had been running for almost an hour when she spoke up. They'd been sitting in mostly silence until then, except for when John had asked if she wanted a soda. He'd stood up to go and buy them each a drink from the vending machine downstairs, telling her to just leave the movie playing because it would only take him a few minutes, and that besides, he'd definitely seen it like a hundred times before. 

"Yeah?"

He felt his stomach flip a little in anticipation of what she was going to say. He couldn't run away again, especially not from his own room. 

"Can you _please_ put the cookies somewhere else because I'm gonna hurl all over the place if I eat anymore of them," she said. 

John laughed and put the lid back on the box, leaning over to return the cookies to his desk. 

"Dad kind of went overboard again," he admitted. "Like they're so good! But I don't need four dozen cookies, no one needs four dozen delicious cookies! He even made oreos for some reason? I don't even know when he made them, because I was at home all weekend!"

"Can I have some?" 

"Yeah. But not now, because I don't want your vomit to go everywhere."

"You're disgusting," she said, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder. 

"No way, you are. You're the one who said she was gonna puke all over my bed! I don't think I'm more disgusting than your gross eye," John said, laughing as he shoved her away when she tried to make him look at her left eye close-up.

When she leant in again, she shuffled down a little first so that she could rest her head on his lap. She was lying on her side, facing the laptop, with her hands tucked up under his knee to keep her fingers warm. 

He thought about asking her to move, but she really looked like she was just trying to get more comfortable to watch the end of the movie. She didn't look up at him, or even say anything else. She just lay there with her head on his lap, her glasses slightly skewed from the angle. 

Cautiously, he raised a hand to try and start working a large, visible knot out of her hair. He ran his fingers through the surrounding strands, being careful not to tug too hard on the parts that were still attached to her head. He scraped and pulled the threads loose, trying not to draw attention to what he was doing. 

Vriska's hair was no worse than Jade's had been when they were kids. He remembered his dad making her sit down once a week so he could comb through her mane properly; he would go through and pull the knots free whenever Jade was struggling, especially with the large tangles that formed right at the ends of her hip-length hair. 

He hoped that he wasn't pulling any hairs out of Vriska's scalp, because he couldn't see her face to tell if she was wincing or not. Jade had always been quick to yell at him for ruining her hair, even when all he'd done was pull it a little too hard when he was trying to help.

Soon enough, the knot came loose and he brushed the section loose with his fingers before picking up another tangle to start all over again. 

It took him almost half an hour to work all the matted sections of Vriska's hair free. With about twenty minutes left on their movie, John started to twist the half of her hair he could reach into a loose braid. His fingers fumbled as he tried to remember how to overlap the sections of hair, dragging up the skill he'd had no use for since he was twelve. He left the end untied, hoping that the inevitable three days dry shampoo would help in holding the braid together. 

"Hey, Vriska?" John said quietly. 

"Yeah?" 

She didn't look away from the screen. 

"You want another snickerdoodle?"

"I stole you a bottle of vanilla syrup from the store room."

"Thanks, but do you want the cookie, or?"

+++

In the grander scheme of things, Jake dropping more than one consecutive 'fuck' was a rarity. He'd been cursing for over two hours, on and off, but it was more of his own unique style of cursing - a lot of made up words followed by a cry of frustration. 

Dirk had been listening from the living room. With the TV volume down low enough to keep tabs on what was going on in the kitchen, he had figured earlier on that that it was best to just let the situation run its course. It was almost eleven at night, on a Monday; the ruckus had already gone on far longer than he'd been anticipating. 

It was his curiosity that got the better of him in the end. He stood up in the middle of a _Breaking Bad_ rerun, unable to let the sudden influx of real, American swearing go on unchecked. 

Jake was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open and surrounded by various papers and receipts.

That didn't bode well. 

"You busy?" Dirk asked. He stopped long enough to lean over and press a kiss to Jake's jaw; while he was partially concerned by all the swearing, he was also curious, and leaning in over his shoulder like that gave him a few seconds to try and glance at the laptop screen. 

"I bloody wish I wasn't," Jake replied, reaching up to mindlessly pat Dirk's cheek before he moved out of reach. "More sodding paperwork with the added bonus of a stupid computer program sourced from this wonderful government of ours." 

"Great," Dirk said. He sat down at the table opposite Jake after detouring to the fridge to collect two beers. "You're doing your taxes, aren't you?"

"No, I'm _trying_ to do my taxes." 

"I heard. From the living room."

"Sorry. It's not as if you were doing anything important anyway," Jake said, frowning at one of his receipts. 

"Well, I wasn't leaving my taxes until the last minute if that's what you mean," Dirk said as he slid an open bottle across the table. 

"Rude."

"But true."

"Oh, piss off." 

"You don't mean that." 

"I'm undecided," Jake said, picking up the bottle to knock back a mouthful of the beer. "I'm not keeping you up, am I?"

"I've been mindlessly watching TV for about four hours now," Dirk said. "I was planning on another four before I went to bed but I can take a break." 

"How strenuous that must be."

"Hey, it's hard work remembering plotlines you thought you were done with years ago."

"I can't say I sympathise with you in the slightest. Can you pass me that whatsit from over there?" Jake asked, vaguely gesturing to a pile of papers somewhere to his left. 

"Do you want some help?"

"I want you to pass the doodad like I asked."

"My question first, do you want some help?"

"Oh, fine," Jake huffed. "I just want this to be done with."

Dirk stood up again and moved around to the other side of the table, sitting in the empty place to Jake's right. He dragged the laptop over and clicked through the few tabs Jake had already started filling with data, then skimmed over the piles of paper on the table. 

"I don't understand how you've got this organised," he said, trying to work out the pattern. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why've you got these receipts laid out like this? It doesn't make any sense," Dirk said. 

He had a gut feeling that he knew what Jake was about to say. It was rare that he actually wanted to be wrong, but it was shaping up to be one of those times. 

"They're like that because that's how I pulled them out of the box."

And there it was. 

"Why do you have a receipt for Del Taco?" 

"It's where I get most of the interns lunches from." 

"Okay, so work expense. Help me out here and start sorting them into work, home, and other," Dirk said, scooping up a random assortment of papers. "Laundry detergent?"

"That's work, laundering of my uniform." 

"You can't claim movie tickets."

"Oh, that must be in there accidentally. Sometimes I just file a variety of receipts at once," Jake explained. He plucked the paper out of Dirk's hand, scrunched it up, and threw it across the kitchen. 

When he did, Dirk noticed the other screwed up balls of paper on the floor and made a note to clean it all up after Jake left for work the next morning. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, did you really go through twenty three, wait, no. You busted up _twenty seven_ shirts this year?"

"We've met, haven't we?" Jake asked coolly, taking another drink of his beer. 

"That's a lot of fucking work shirts."

"About two a month, it's not particularly a bad year really," he went on. "Oh, here's a few for socks." 

"How many?"

"Receipts or socks?"

"Both."

"Fifteen receipts, sixty three pairs."

"How is that a thing you manage?" Dirk asked incredulously, taking the receipts. 

"Look, there are just some things that splash a lot and don't come out no matter how many times you run them through the wash." 

"And yet to this day you wonder why I lose my shit when you walk through the house with your work boots on." 

"Speaking of," Jake said. "Two pairs of boots for the work pile." 

"I don't want to know." 

"Can I claim gun costs?"

"Did you use any of them to take out a superhuman threat that the government thanked you for this year?" Dirk asked, starting to enter the data he'd compiled into the online program. 

"No."

"Then probably not." 

"Hm," Jake frowned. "That's a shame."

"Why?"

"Because I've got a lot of weapons-based costs. All those permits add up, you know."

"You could always get rid of a few," Dirk suggested. He checked the information on the paper in front of him twice before entering it into the database. 

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Jake said, appalled. "Just get rid of a few? Just who do you think I am?"

"I know. Crazy idea." 

"Darn flipping right it's a crazy idea. You'll be thanking me after the nuclear fallout subsides and we're well equipped to survive."

"Just hand me the rest of that pile there, would you?" Dirk said. 

It took him another hour to get through the work-related expenses alone. 

Jake had no concept of organisation at the best of times, but when it came to vaguely important documents he was even worse. Everything that he thought might be relevant to his taxes went into a shoebox and ended up completely mixed up. Dirk had to go through and sort out the kinds of expenses, the validity of his claims, and continually throw aside receipts that had been inadvertently filed throughout the previous year. 

When he pushed his chair back from the table, Jake looked up tiredly from his game of _Angry Birds_. 

"Where're you off to?"

"Just getting another drink. You want one?"

"No, thank you," Jake sighed. "This takes me far too long every single year." 

"So just pay someone to do it," Dirk said when he sat back down again with a fresh beer. "You take everything in and they do it for you in like two hours." 

"That's _your_ taxes," Jake laughed. "I think normal people with less complicated streams of income get in and out of the office in thirty minutes," he said, reaching over to take a swig from Dirk's bottle. 

"So do you want me to call my guy and see if he can get you in before the deadline? I mean, he's in Houston but I don't have any plans for tomorrow." 

"Don't be ridiculous," Jake scoffed, passing the beer back. "Besides, if we'd just managed to get ourselves organised in the last year, your accountant could have just done my taxes in with yours."

" _You're_ talking about organisation? That's a fucking riot," Dirk snorted. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is we really should get around to confirming this whole thing in the eyes of the law because it would make a bloody lot of things easier," Jake said. 

"Jake, what?"

"What do you mean what? It's not as crazy as you're making it sound. I mean that I wouldn't have to do this myself every year if we just got our shit together and signed a few papers."

Dirk opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, unable to think of an appropriate response. He thought he was sure what Jake was saying, but he'd been wrong in the past and it was easy to misunderstand a point when Jake English was the one trying to make it. 

"I'm gonna need you to be more succinct," he said eventually. 

When he closed his fist around the neck of his beer bottle, Dirk realised that his fingers were trembling.

He was almost certain that he understood already.

"Why aren't we married? It's been almost ten years."

"Nine years, four months."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So why not?"

"Why not?" Dirk repeated. "Why not? Because after nine years and four months, you couldn't wait another eight?"

While it wasn't the most appropriate of responses, Dirk was speaking before he could really think about the impact of what he was saying. 

Jake didn't know that he'd been planning to ask. Jake had no idea. He had no idea that Dirk had spoken to his parents last Christmas, or that he'd been shopping around for the most indestructible rings that man could make. Jake didn't have that context because for all of his intentions, Dirk had never said anything. He'd just waited. 

"What?" 

He had two options, but considering the circumstances, the lie didn't really feel like a valid option. 

"I've been waiting," he said, fingers still wrapped tightly around the beer. "I thought I picked out the right time. I was waiting until December."

"For ten years?"

"Yeah. I wanted to a long time ago, but it was never right. Not with the travelling we were both doing." 

"How long ago?"

"About nine years," Dirk admitted. "Just, never got around to it." 

"You're insane," Jake said gently, turning in his seat to properly face Dirk as he reached up to close the lid of his laptop. "Absolutely barmy." 

"So I've been told," he said, frowning as Jake took the beer from him and pushed it to the other side of the table, away from his tax documents. "What are you doing?" 

Jake didn't reply immediately. Instead, he just stared, as if he was trying to figure out exactly how the gears were turning for Dirk. 

Dirk didn't know how his own gears were going, so he had no idea how Jake was supposed to figure it out from his facial expressions alone. 

"Jake?"

"My question first, you twat. You never answered," Jake said, still closely watching the gears ticking over as Dirk searched for his response. 

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, you lost your head for a minute there."

"Yeah, Jake. The answer is pretty much a straight up hell yeah."

**End of Act 5.2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking around through another act!
> 
> Join me on the blog at twoperfectlittlefreaks.tumblr.com to keep in touch and see what's coming up. 
> 
> I can tell you now though, act 6 is next and it's gonna be a long one!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> you're fab. 
> 
> twoperfectlittlefreaks.tumblr.com for updates, question times, and general shenanigans. 
> 
> <3


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